


In Case You Remember

by SheLovedTooEasily



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, I am big on happy endings, M/M, but with a twist obviously, continues where episode 12 ended, healthy relationship alert despite the twist, idk man just give it a go, yuuri's anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheLovedTooEasily/pseuds/SheLovedTooEasily
Summary: 'I'm sorry, my Yuuri... I can't be with you for now, they said I'll only make everything worse. I need you to get better, but I will be waiting for you. Always. In case you remember.'After hitting his head on the ice, things aren't as bad as Yuuri expected them to be when he wakes up in a foreign hospital. No permanent brain damage, some rest and he'll be fine; that's the doctor's verdict. He might have messed up at the Grand Prix Final after his mother had called him to tell him that his dog had passed away, but there was always time to heal and make a comeback for the next one.Nothing to worry about, or so he thinks, until his mentor Minako tells him that he's in Barcelona, not Sochi.And that's when everything gets truly confusing, because how does one deal with losing over a year of memories? Now it's up to Yuuri to try and remember what's missing, and to figure out why it feels like there's a hole in his heart. Not to mention to walk that fine line between fantasies and memories, because surely any dream or memory that includes his idol, Russian skating legend Victor Nikiforov, has to be fake?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I feel sort of weird about posting this, seeing as I wrote it like a year ago simply because the idea wouldn't leave me alone, but I wasn't really in the fandom back then so I figured I could just 'write it for myself' to get it out of my system. 
> 
> But now, 40k words in and almost finished, it seems odd and pointless to /not/share it, even if it's like for two or three people who might enjoy reading it. So bless you if you've clicked on this story to give it a go, you're fabulous and you rock my socks!
> 
>  
> 
> **(Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor nor a figure skating expert, but I tried.)**
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any questions or remarks, you can easily message me (even if anonymously) via _destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com_

**_\---_ **

_'_ _Remember the day_  
_Cause this is what dreams should always be_  
_I just want to stay_  
_I just want to keep this dream in me'_

  ** _Ryan Star, Losing Your Memory_**

_\---_

 

Pain. Yuuri knew pain. Was familiar with it thanks to the many blisters on his feet, and the countless dark bruises on his knees and hips that he'd gathered over the years. Had gotten used to it whenever he'd scraped his hands on the cold, unforgiving ice of the rink. He was also no stranger to that bone deep exhaustion that hurt so good, because it meant that he'd pushed himself to the limit, made sure he'd done everything he could to perform to the best of his ability.

And then there was a different kind of pain. A pain that had nothing to do with his body, but with the demons hiding inside of his own head, the ones that taunted him whenever he'd failed. _Yet again_ , they would kindly point out, even though Yuuri never asked them to. It wasn't a physical sort of pain, but at times, he was sure that it hurt more than whatever injuries his skating career had thrown at him so far.

All of the above made it so that Yuuri wasn't all that impressed by the dull ache at the back of his head when he slowly woke up from what felt like possibly a two year long nap. He groaned when he tried to open his eyes, coming to the conclusion that his eyelids were exceptionally heavy today. _Today._ What even was today? Yuuri wasn't sure.

His ears registered a shrill beeping noise somewhere to his left. _Beep, beep, beep._ Yuuri flinched, and this time he did manage to open his eyes. He blinked, gasping for breath as he took in his surroundings. The sound came from a monitor nearby, and the bed that he was in was unmistakably a hospital bed. There was a window to his right, but hideous flowery curtains were blocking his view. He became aware of the bandages that were slightly too tight around his head.  

Still feeling a little drowsy, panic didn't take over right away, and Yuuri tried to remember something. Anything, really. After a long minute, he sighed in relief when he realized that he was in fact able to put two and two together. His mom, his mom had called. Telling him that his dog Vicchan had passed away, the very night before Yuuri was supposed to perform his free skate at the Grand Prix Final.

And surely he'd done what he always did; he'd turned to food to comfort him, and then... Then, as the cherry on top, he'd messed everything up by letting his anxiety take over. Everything that he'd worked so hard for, gone. Even more so, it seemed that he'd screwed up one of his jumps so spectacularly that it had earned him a one way ticket to the hospital. Go figure, wasn't that just the story of his life?

He was this close to laughing at himself in cruel disbelief, when the green door to his left opened, distracting him. A young woman with dark curly hair walked in, offering him a smile.

"Ah, you're awake," she greeted him in accented English. "Took you a while, but I'm glad you're with us again. I'm going to run a few tests, if you'll allow."

She handed Yuuri a pair of glasses, and everything became sharper the second he put them on. He stared at her, blood rushing to his cheeks when he figured that she was waiting for him to talk to her like an actual human being.

"Oh... I..." his throat was sore and he cleared it, then tried again. "I mean, yes, go ahead... Are you a nurse?"

A stupid question of course, but when he glanced at his arm and spotted the IV, he suspected that there were definitely some drugs in his system to keep the pain at bay.

She grinned at him before correcting him. "Doctor, actually," she paused once she was standing right beside Yuuri's bed.

"Can you move everything? Arms? Legs?" she checked as she leaned closer and went to work, pulling out a small light that she instructed Yuuri to follow with his eyes.

Yuuri considered her question while he did as told, then lifted his arms, sat a little straighter, and experimentally wiggled his toes under the ugly yellow sheets.

"That would be a yes," she noted. "Do you know where you are?" she added after a brief look at the clipboard on the tiny table beside the bed.

"The hospital," Yuuri deadpanned. He blamed the drugs.

It was a good thing that his doctor seemed to have a sense of humor, because she chuckled before asking her next question. "Alright, let me rephrase, do you know _who_ you are?"

At least that was an easy question, and Yuuri dutifully supplied a summary. "Katsuki Yuuri, born and raised in Hasetsu, Japan, professional figure skater who made it to the Grand Prix Final and I... my dog died the other day, and I- I screwed up."

He'd mumbled the last part, casting his eyes down in shame. When he peeked up again, his doctor smiled at him sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied, sounding genuine. "As for the good news though, all of your scans are looking perfectly fine. I'm not going to sugarcoat it, your head will probably hurt for the next two weeks or so, but there was no permanent brain damage as far as we can see, which is a miracle considering that fall you made on the ice. We had to wait until you woke up to make sure that nothing was off, but there are no obvious problems with your speech or memory, so I'd say the odds are in your favor. All you need is a lot of rest, and preferably an environment with minimal stress."

She winked good-naturedly as she quickly scribbled something down on her clipboard, telling Yuuri that she'd be back later to check if anything had changed, just to make sure.

Before she disappeared through the door, she threw him one last look over her shoulder, cheerfully telling him "I'll let your coach know that you're awake and that he can see you now, he's been in the waiting area for six hours, he was worried sick."

Yuuri frowned, but nodded. He hoped Celestino wasn't too upset with him.

Then again, his coach was kind enough, and Yuuri _had_ warned him before the free skate that he wasn't feeling his best after his mother had called him to break the news. Of course, Celestino had only done what he'd thought was right when he'd pushed Yuuri to skate anyway, because it would've been a huge waste if Yuuri didn't at least try after training so hard for months. He'd meant well, afraid that Yuuri would regret it if he hadn't given it a shot. Knowing himself, he might _have_ regretted it, so he couldn't blame his coach, not really.

Feeling a bit lightheaded, Yuuri shifted on the bed, resting back against the pillows. He blamed both the painkillers and what surely was a serious concussion for his dizziness. Everything seemed fuzzy and weird, a tad surreal even.

When the door creaked open not much later, Yuuri already had an apology at the ready, in case Celestino wasn't entirely forgiving. However as he opened his mouth, he froze, his apology getting stuck in his throat as he immediately recognized the person waltzing through the door.

Because that was not Celestino Cialdini, not even close. That was _Victor Nikiforov_. _The_ Victor Nikiforov. Russian skating legend and the world's hottest bachelor, Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri's idol, the guy he'd looked up to his entire life, the guy that he'd been wanting to meet as his equal at this exact Grand Prix Final. _That_ Victor Nikiforov.

Before Yuuri could make sense of anything, aforementioned Victor Nikiforov was already invading Yuuri's personal space, firmly taking one of Yuuri's hands into both of his and kissing his knuckles. Over and over again, as if he was worshipping them.

"Yuuri! Thank god, you're alright! I've never been more scared in my life, I thought I'd lose you forever, I..."

And then Victor Nikiforov hiccupped and started sobbing. Uncontrollably. And Yuuri didn't get it, couldn't understand this entire scene, not one bit.

Unsurprisingly, Victor Nikiforov was beautiful even when crying. He was staring down at their intertwined hands in a futile attempt to hide his tears, and Yuuri took that opportunity to take a closer look at him.

Up close, his silvery hair looked softer and shinier than it had ever seemed on TV or in any of the posters that were covering the walls of Yuuri's childhood room. His eyes were bluer, his lashes longer; somehow cameras didn't do him justice, from the looks of it. Yuuri noticed traces of unnecessary make-up on his already flawless face, but his heart truly skipped a beat when Victor's outfit caught his eye. A sparkly skating costume, a costume that Yuuri vaguely recognized, but not quite. The purple and silver were foreign to him, but otherwise, it reminded him a lot of the ensemble in pink and gold that Victor had been wearing for his free skate. Yuuri hadn't seen much of Victor's program; he'd been too caught up in his own anxiety to even properly watch his idol's performance, but he'd seen enough of Victor backstage and in grainy ten second YouTube videos to recognize the design.

Yuuri's blood turned to ice. Why was he even worrying about details like that when all of this was so fundamentally _wrong_? Alarm bells went off in Yuuri's head as he caught up with what was happening.

_'There was no permanent brain damage as far as we can see, which is a miracle considering that fall you made on the ice...'_

That's what the doctor had said, but she'd been wrong, hadn't she? Totally wrong, because this wasn't real, _couldn't_ be real. Yuuri was hallucinating, apparently his brain was making up dream scenarios that felt so real that it was absolutely terrifying. That was the only proper explanation here.

Or what if it was _worse_? He suddenly vaguely remembered that documentary that he'd once watched with Phichit, about people dreaming up entire lives while unconscious, only to be disappointed or heartbroken once they woke up from a coma. And it made sense, seeing as surely some painkillers wouldn't be able to conjure up a hallucination _that_ vivid.

Actually thinking about it, all of it was ridiculous. If Yuuri's brain was trying to make this believable, it was doing a pretty poor job. He'd never met Victor Nikiforov in person, but he had a difficult time imagining that the guy would be as dramatic as to kneel by his bed still dressed up in a fancy costume, looking like a dream while crying like an award winning actor. And, repeat, they'd never even _met_.

And that was Yuuri's cue to panic, because this left him with two options; either he was still passed out, trapped in his own body in some hospital god knows where. Or his brain was more damaged than the doctors had anticipated, and he was losing his mind and going utterly insane after the fall.

Instinctively, he jerked his hand away, out of Victor's grasp. No, scratch that, that wasn't Victor Nikiforov. It was merely a cruel fantasy that Yuuri's brain had decided to torture him with.

Not-Victor's head shot up at the action, his mouth hanging open in shock, tears still steadily streaming down his cheeks.

"Get away from me, _please_..." Yuuri  warned weakly, his voice breaking. "You're not real, get out! It's all in my head!"

"Yuuri..." again, not-Victor said his name as if it was the most precious word in the universe, and Yuuri shivered, unable to help himself. "Yuuri, what's wrong? Talk to me, you're scaring me."

Ha! Hallucination-Victor was the scared one? There had to be a joke in there, somewhere. But then Victor was reaching for Yuuri's hand again, and it triggered a full-blown panic attack when Yuuri's eyes accidentally fell on the matching golden rings on their fingers.

Yuuri hated himself. This was what he came up with, of all things? Being Victor Nikiforov's trophy husband? He was way too old to make up fairytales in which his idol was madly in love with him. It had been fun to imagine, back when he was sixteen, but he was a reasonably well functioning adult now, and he'd been over that for a long time. This was sick, so sick and disturbing. He shared that thought out loud.

"This is sick, I'm crazy, I'm a creep," he whimpered, his breathing going shallow, his vision getting blurry, hands going numb.

The expression on not-Victor's face was so crestfallen that Yuuri almost felt sorry for him. Almost, because none of it was actually happening, so it would be a waste of energy to pity a figment of his own imagination.

"Stop looking at me like that! Leave me alone!" Yuuri knew that he was all but yelling to none other than his own delusions, but his hands were trembling so badly, his chest still hurting.

His head was throbbing too, the pain suddenly unbearable. He wasn't breathing.

The last thing he saw before everything slipped away, were not-Victor's watery eyes, all of the color drained from his stupidly handsome face.

~~~

Yuuri slept. Slumbered. Tossed and turned at times, while other times he felt at peace. Or at least, he thought so, it was hard to tell, his concept of asleep or awake gone for the time being. He never opened his eyes though. Every now and then he heard voices, but he wasn't sure if any of those voices meant anything to him. Some were in English, others in Japanese, and he thought he vaguely recalled some Spanish being in there.

Ironically, the only voice that stood out at some point, was the one with a thick Russian accent. A temporary return of not-Victor.

_'I'm sorry, my Yuuri... I can't be with you for now, they said I'll only make everything worse. I need you to get better, but I will be waiting for you. Always. In case you remember. '_

The declaration was followed by a fleeting touch to Yuuri's right hand, but he'd been too tired to even worry about it, or to contemplate whether it was a dream or another hallucination. With it already being less realistic and more dreamlike, he took it as a sign that he _was_ getting better. Or at the very least getting better at not confusing what was real with what wasn't.

He'd be alright, eventually. Everything would go back to normal, and he'd get another chance to skate, perhaps even make it to another Grand Prix Final. He was sure of it.

~~~

When Yuuri woke up, _truly_ woke up, it was to a ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains, and two familiar voices. He could faintly make out the shape of his glasses on the nightstand, and he blindly reached for them, putting them on his nose. Sitting in two uncomfortable looking chairs in the corner of the room were his sister Mari and his mentor Minako, quietly talking to each other. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sighed, relieved when he held up his hands in front of him and saw that there were no rings that didn't belong there.

He was going to be alright. It had probably been a combination of shock, and painkillers, and exhaustion. Nothing more. Yuuri could breathe again, quirking a smile when he tried to get the attention of the two women chatting.

"H-hey guys?"

"Yuuri!" Minako exclaimed, getting up from her seat and rushing up to him, carefully hugging him. "You're back!"

Mari appeared on the other side of his bed a second later, rolling her eyes and patting his cheek. "Don't ever scare us like that again, mom nearly had a heart attack," it almost came out as a threat, but Yuuri didn't miss the bare relief in her eyes, nor the black circles underneath them.

The three of them talked for a bit, small talk about how Yuuri felt now, and about how the typical smell of a hospital was awful and gross.

That was until Mari announced that she was going to get some coffee for herself and Minako, giving Minako a meaningful look before she left the room, mumbling something that sounded a lot like "you handle this one, you're probably better at it than I am anyway".

Yuuri didn't ask about the suspicious exchange, having a feeling that he was about to find out soon enough, knowing Minako.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Minako's lips formed a tight line. That didn't bode well, did it?

"Yuuri..." she started, only to hesitate for a moment. "We had a chat with your doctor this morning, and she told us... Okay, I'm just going to say it as it is, after all that's what I do best, huh?"

"So say it," Yuuri urged, worried now. "Did they miss something? Am I going to die?"

"Nooo! Nothing like that," Minako quickly assured him. "You'll be fine, it's just that... Look, you're missing memories. A lot of them."

Yuuri gaped at her. Because that couldn't be true. He'd been out of it for a bit, sure, but he was alright now.

"But I'm... I'm not missing anything?" he argued, the words coming out as a question. "I'm Katsuki Yuuri, my hometown is Hasetsu, Japan. My mother's name is Hiroko and she makes the best pork cutlet bowls in the world, my father's name is Toshiya, my dog's name was Vicchan, but he died the other day which is why I messed up at the Grand Prix Final and hit my head on the ice, because I'm a professional figure skater, by the way."

Minako blinked at him.

"My best friend at home is Yuuko, we often skated together at the Ice Castle?" he tried.

Minako blinked some more.

"I live with my roommate and close friend Phichit in Detroit? Our coach's name is Celestino? I can't be missing that much," Yuuri insisted, hating that he felt in the dark again. "And where _is_ Celestino, anyway?"

Minako's face fell, and she looked dejected.

"What?" he pressed, touching her arm. "Did I not get all of that right?"

A long silence.

"Ooh, Yuuri," she muttered, sounding eerily sad, tiredly running a hand through her hair. "You did get it right, sort of... But Vicchan dying, placing last at the Grand Prix Final... That all happened over a year ago! That's what you're missing, over a year of memories! You were at the final in Barcelona when you hit your head, not Sochi!"

Stunned at Minako's suggestion, Yuuri was weirdly reminded of some meme that Phichit used to mercilessly bother him with. It went something like _'that sounds fake, but okay'_. He stared at Minako, tongue-tied. If she was speaking the truth, he had a million questions, and he couldn't possibly ask them all at once so he remained silent instead, contemplating.

Because why would she lie? They'd known each other for so long, and if Yuuri trusted anyone in life to guide him with nothing but blunt honesty, it was Minako-sensei. In the end though, if this was for real, he figured that one question was the most important one of them all.

"Will it come back?"

Minako smiled wryly. "We've been told that with time, there's a good chance. I'm going to let your doctor know that you're awake after your twenty-four hour beauty sleep, but according to her it will be best if you take your time to remember things on your own, otherwise you might get... overwhelmed. You had a huge panic attack earlier, and she was very concerned."

Yuuri shuddered as he remembered that moment when he'd lost his mind for a minute or two, and he decided that yeah, fair enough, maybe he needed to take it easy.

"Alright... But can you fill me in on some details, at least?" Yuuri pleaded. "You're telling me I'm missing over a year of memories, but I did hit my head at the Grand Prix Final? Does that mean I made it to another one?"

At that, there was a flicker of fondness in Minako's eyes that instantly made Yuuri feel warm inside. "You did, and let me tell you, you by no means messed it up this time."

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, not following. "So you're saying I failed to do a jump so badly that I ended up in a near coma, but I still got a decent score? Did they add me dramatically passing out on international television to the presentation score?"

Snorting, Minako shook her head. "No, you silly boy. You finished your program and won silver, fair and square. The accident happened later, at the end of your exhibition."

"Wait _, silver_? Me?!" Yuuri repeated in shock, gawking at her.

"Yes, you. Let's leave it at that for now, you have to remember on your own, doctor's orders." She reminded him.

Giving up, Yuuri let out a frustrated groan. "Fine... One more thing though?"

"And what's that, Yuuri?"

He shrugged. "I take it Celestino isn't my coach anymore, since he isn't here and you pulled your brooding face when I asked about him. So... who was?"

Minako watched him intently, her inner struggle clearly visible to Yuuri who'd known her since he was a child. He wasn't fooled that easily.

She almost smiled when she answered him. Almost.

" _I_ was."

~~~

Suffering from severe headaches in the days that followed, Yuuri allowed his sister and his friend to take the wheel from there. Once the bandages were gone and his doctor confirmed that he was stable enough to travel -by now he'd learned that her first name was Josefa-, Minako announced that they were going home, home being Hasetsu. With Detroit being the last place where Yuuri remembered living, in a tiny apartment that he shared with Phichit and a bunch of hamsters, he needed to adjust to that idea, but he went with it.

He _had_ missed home a lot, and if what he needed was a calm environment without stress, his hometown would meet those standards, for sure. It only made sense though, that he'd decided to go back to Hasetsu and made the Ice Castle his home rink when he'd left Celestino and opted to train with Minako instead.

Tired and under the influence of some painkillers, Yuuri left the hospital late at night via a backdoor in case there was any lingering press, Minako and Mari at his side as they got into a taxi. Exhaustion taking over, Yuuri hardly remembered getting to the airport, and he slept away most of the flight back to Japan.

After Minako dodged a stray reporter by using her scary voice, they took a taxi from the airport again; Minako and Mari were determined to save him from public transportation, which Mari claimed would give a person headaches even on a good day without a head injury. She wasn't wrong about that.

Getting back to Yu-topia was strange, to say the least. Naturally, Yuuri's mother and father welcomed him with open arms, but Yuuri had the odd sense that there were things that he needed to do. Things such as apologize for staying away for five years. And paying his respects to Vicchan. But he'd already done all of that, according to his family; of course he had, he'd lived here for the past nine months for crying out loud, he simply didn't _remember._

Getting somewhat dizzy again, he declined when his mother offered to make him her famous pork cutlet bowl, excusing himself to his room, telling his family that he wanted to unpack and get some more rest.  

Another warm hug, and his mother waved him off with a soft "of course, we understand, dear."

In all honesty, Yuuri was feeling out of place. Like he'd been dropped in the middle of a stage to be the lead in a musical, without knowing what the script was and without the ability to even sing to begin with.

He needed some time to gather his thoughts, and after saying goodbye to Minako, he made his way upstairs.

The first thing that caught his attention when he flicked on the lights in his bedroom, were the walls. Or more specifically, the lack of posters there. He last remembered his room to basically be a Victor Nikiforov shrine, but it was all gone. Over the past year, he must have made the decision that he was becoming too old to keep the merchandise any longer.

"Probably not a bad call," Yuuri mumbled to himself, dumping his luggage on the floor; he'd unpack later.

His plan was to fall face first onto his bed and stay like that for an undisclosed amount of time, but he was stopped when his gaze fell on his desk.

Ah, so not _everything_ was gone, then. Carefully, he picked up the framed picture of Victor Nikiforov. Victor was smiling at the camera, but it looked like a spontaneously taken photograph rather than a standard promotional picture, his smile too happy and carefree for the latter. His blue eyes were sparkling mischievously, but there was evident affection gracing his features as well. Victor's face took up most of the image, but from what little background Yuuri could see, it was taken on a beach.

He didn't remember where or when he'd gotten that one, but chances were that it was another gift from Yuuko. He made a mental note to visit her soon.

There was a knock on the door, and he put back the picture as he called a quiet 'come in'.

His sister came in, leaning against his doorframe, and Yuuri sat down on the edge of the bed, curiously glancing up at her.

"Just making sure you're alright," she clarified, even though he hadn't said a word yet; one look was usually all it took for the two of them to communicate.

"I am, no need to worry. I have to get used to everything, that's all. I guess it's disorientating when parts of you are suddenly... missing."

She nodded at his explanation, but her eyes were intense, scrutinizing. "Let me know if you need anything. Or if you remember something, anything at all."

Mari turned to leave, but Yuuri hurriedly blurted out "wait!"

"Hmm?" his sister encouraged him to keep talking, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Was it true, what Minako said? Me winning a silver medal, I mean? You guys aren't protecting me because you're afraid that I'll freak out if you tell me about another failure, are you?" Yuuri decided that he needed to face his fears head on if he wanted to get some of them out of the way.

 "Oh _that_ , it's true alright," she confirmed without any signs of hesitation. "Check your suitcase."

Yuuri did as told, kneeling beside his luggage. He unzipped the large black suitcase, and sure enough after digging through some training outfits and pajamas that were in desperate need of seeing the inside of a washing machine, he found it. A shiny medal, the real deal. Despite everything, his face lit up.

"Wow," he whispered as he held it up in front of him.

"I even saved this," Mari announced, kneeling down beside him and shoving her phone in Yuuri's face.

It was a hastily taken picture of the official score board with the final scores, a bit blurry, but sure enough there it was:

**_#2 - Yuuri Katsuki - Japan_ **

His eyes gliding over the other names and scores, he found out that he'd only missed the gold by an inch. Yuri Plisetski... Yuuri knew that name, he'd been very popular at the junior competitions. Looked like he'd had one hell of a senior debut, then.

It was only when Yuuri finished reading the list that he realized that something was alarmingly wrong with it, and that was the fact that Russian legend Victor Nikiforov _wasn't on it_. Yuuri had half assumed that the one taking the gold had been Victor, as per usual, but he hadn't even _been_ there?

He looked up from the phone and blinked at his sister, shocked.

"Did... Did Victor Nikiforov retire this year?" he whispered, not liking that idea at all.

Mari looked flustered all of a sudden, and her face twisted into something that Yuuri couldn't quite label. Guilt? Fear? Worry? A combination of all of those? It lasted several seconds, and then she composed herself, getting up from the floor and shaking her head.

"He-" she paused, clearing her throat. "He decided to take a break to focus on other... things. He's recently announced his comeback though, so no need to worry about it."

"Oh..." was all Yuuri uttered as he watched his sister leave the room, this time for real.

Victor Nikiforov had taken a break? At random? To do other things? What _things_?

Yuuri searched his suitcase again, this time for his phone, hoping to do some research. He kept in mind the warning that he needed to remember stuff on his own, but surely looking up some information about his celebrity idol wouldn't be a problem.  

Except his phone wasn't there. Minako probably still had it? He'd ask her about it in the morning, it was getting late anyway. When he quickly searched his room for his laptop to use that instead, it wasn't there either. And alright, that _was_ suspicious, as if they'd made his own room Yuuri-proof so that he wouldn't go snooping where he shouldn't be. He huffed, annoyed, but his head was bothering him again after a long trip, and it was nearly midnight.

He'd confront people tomorrow. For now, his bed was calling to him.

He opened his closet, finding some old pajama pants to put on. He picked the first t-shirt he saw on top of a pile, a black one, frowning when he identified it as a shirt with a V-neck. He didn't remember owning one of those, but then again, what _did_ he remember these days? He put it on without giving it any more thought, finding that it was slightly too large on him.

That was when a faintly familiar scent invaded his nose, hitting him like a ton of bricks. A scent that Yuuri automatically associated with comfort, and good, and _home_. But then it gradually shifted, turning into longing. And missing. Perhaps even loneliness, or sadness.

Yuuri attempted to fight the abrupt ache in his chest, but it wouldn't be tamed. Whatever was going on here, it was _hurting_. A lot. Curling up on his bed on top of the sheets, Yuuri stared blankly ahead, a silent tear running down his cheek.

What was wrong with him? One minute he'd been fine, the next he felt as if someone had ripped out a part of his very soul. As if there was some all consuming black hole in his chest, as if some essential part of him was missing.

Was this what it was going to feel like to try and remember on his own? Because in that case, Yuuri didn't want any of it. He inwardly debated whether or not he should take off the shirt that had started it all, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to get up and do it. Because that scent was pain, yet comfort. That scent was something he needed to hold onto, even if apparently it had let him go.

Sleep didn't come to Yuuri for a long time, but when it finally did, he heard familiar words echo in his mind. Words that he was certain he'd heard before while floating in that foggy space between being awake and falling asleep.

_'Sweet dreams, my sleeping beauty.'_

Yuuri knew that he was only indulging himself when imagining these words being said in a Russian accent. He was already too drowsy to recognize the reply that he reflexively mumbled to the voice in his head.

"Good night, _Vitya_."


	2. Chapter 2

**___**

_Standing on the shore_  
_Calling out your name_  
_I was here before_  
_I could see your face_  

_** Blame It On The Weatherman, B*Witched ** _

**\---**

There was no need for Yuuri to find Minako and confront her about the phone, because she was already at the breakfast table the next day, wishing him a good morning with a face that was all too innocent.

So that answered that question. Yuuri rolled his eyes at her.

"How are you feeling today, dear?" his mother asked, rubbing his shoulder, pointing him to the large pork cutlet bowl that was waiting for him.

"Better," he admitted as he sat down, meaning it.

After a good night's sleep in his own bed and an early dip in the hot springs, he felt more rested, his head clearer. The smell of his favorite dish helped, too. He'd thrown the offensive shirt in the laundry basket, not too proud to admit that he'd probably been overreacting last night. About what, he didn't even know.

"That's good to hear, now eat up, you look pale, that hospital food didn't do you any good!" his mother chided gently.

Yuuri had no trouble following that order, appreciatively moaning around the first bite. He couldn't possibly know when he'd last enjoyed one of his mom's homemade meals, but it might as well have been a decade.

When Hiroko darted out of the room and it was just him and Minako, Yuuri's mentor-turned-coach wasted no time, immediately starting a conversation.

"Did you sleep well, Yuuri?" she asked pleasantly, too pleasantly, like a cat stalking its prey.

"Fine," he answered flatly after taking another bite. "Can I have my phone back? Did you bribe someone to make my laptop disappear as well?" he added without beating around the bush.

Minako didn't even deny it, she shrugged. "Doctor's orders, I told you. I know you, it would've taken you less than a day to go looking for things that'll upset you."

"Okay... So what are you planning to do, lock me up in my room?" Yuuri challenged. "You won't be able to keep that up for long without getting arrested for kidnapping, you know," he added jokingly.

"Oh, don't I know it," she agreed easily. "That's why I'm here, to help you trigger your memories! The sooner you remember, the better. Otherwise it'll only be a matter of time before you see something that will send you into shock, and we can't have that."

With a sigh, Yuuri put down his chopsticks. "Really? Exactly how eventful has the past year been for me, if you're this worried about me not handling the truth like an adult?"

Minako chuckled darkly. "Oh Yuuri... You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

~~~

As it turned out, Minako had a plan. A flimsy plan, if you asked Yuuri, but a plan nonetheless.

"Let's go to the beach!" she'd said.

It wasn't like Yuuri had anything better to do while he was still recovering (no skating for at least another two weeks, his doctor had insisted), and he humored her. If nothing else, it would mean getting some fresh air. The weather was dark and cloudy today and the beach deserted, aside from the seagulls flying over their heads. After a lazy walk they sat down on a large rock, staring at the waves as they crashed to the shore, neither of them speaking for a while.

Eventually, the sun wrestled its way through the thick wall of grey, gracing them with its presence. Somewhere in the distance, a couple of kids were building a sand castle now, and a tall man was walking his dog. Yuuri's eyes followed the movements of the dog and its owner, and his heart skipped a beat.

Vicchan... The hollow feeling in his chest probably had to do with Yuuri being reminded of his own dog, the one that was no longer with him.

He sighed, hugging his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. A particularly daring seagull landed not too far from them, and out of the blue, one word popped up in Yuuri's head, loud and clear.

_'Saint Petersburg'._

Yuuri stared at the bird, trying to make sense of that. He'd never even been to Saint Petersburg. Or wait, had he?

"Hey Minako sensei?"

"Hmm?"

"This past year... Have I ever been to Saint Petersburg?" Yuuri inquired.

He glanced sideways, but she was shaking her head at him. "You haven't, you've been to Moscow though."

"Moscow?" he repeated curiously.

"Rostelecom Cup," she elaborated. "You were a bit distracted there, but you still performed well enough to make it to the finals."

"Right..." he mumbled.

That hadn't been helpful at all.

He was glad when Minako decided they'd call it a day and go home, because he needed to get rid of that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that this place was giving him.

Yuuri wasn't dumb; something must've happened here, otherwise Minako wouldn't have taken him there. Besides, he wouldn't be feeling this way if there hadn't been more to this place.

The feeling lingered. Even when getting back to Yu-Topia, the warmth and familiarity of home and another one of his mother's excellent cooking experiments waiting for him, he felt... empty.

While he ate, he wracked his brain, trying to analyze what was missing here. Was it Vicchan being gone, and Yuuri not recalling the time he'd grieved and processed the death of his beloved poodle? Was it suddenly not living with his friend Phichit in Detroit anymore, even though that had been the last thing he remembered? Were any of those factors big enough to make Yuuri feel a void so inescapable that it was all but suffocating him?

Because from what he'd been told, he'd had a pretty great year. Made a comeback, lived in the comfort of his hometown while being trained by someone who knew him and understood him, he'd done well at the Grand Prix Final and had a silver medal to prove it...

So why was he feeling this way? And why was everyone too terrified to tell him? Yuuri was both desperate and horrified to find out the truth.

~~~

The  night after going to the beach, Yuuri dreamed. A good dream, to his pleasant surprise.

_"That was freaking amazing!" Yuuko squealed after Yuuri had skated the routine that he'd been practicing for a while now. "You could get the gold with this! Can you show me again?"_

_Yuuri smiled at his friend, nodding happily. "Sure! I'm glad you like it!"_

_And Yuuri started the routine again, not sure where he'd gotten it from, but knowing all of the steps and jumps by heart. There wasn't any music playing, but he could hear the song in his head, loud and clear. The vocals were in Italian, but for reasons unknown, he knew what they meant; stay close to me, don't leave._

_He was only a minute and one jump in when the lights were slowly dimming, creating a more intimate atmosphere. He turned around in surprise, and then he saw another silhouette, skating towards him._

_He gasped when the other skater was close enough for Yuuri to put a face and name to him, joining him in the spotlights. Victor Nikiforov._

_Victor was holding out his hand, smiling at him, blue eyes impossibly soft. It wasn't his picture-perfect-posing-for-the-cameras smile, on the contrary, it was a smile much like the one in the picture on Yuuri's desk. The costume that he was wearing looked stunning on him, silver and purple, the fabric smooth and elegant; the complete opposite of the regular training gear that Yuuri was currently wearing. And Yuuri knew that outfit, but at the same time, he didn't. A seed of doubt had been planted in his mind, hinting at something being not quite right, but as if reading his thoughts, Victor soothed his worries._

_"No need to be afraid, Yuuri," he murmured as he offered his hand again. "You know how this goes."_

_Biting his lip, Yuuri threw caution to the wind and tentatively took it. He wasn't disappointed._

_Victor's hand was warm and solid in Yuuri's own as they danced across the ice together, flawlessly, both of them having every move memorized as if they'd done this a thousand times before today. Yuuri's heart stuttered when Victor lifted him effortlessly, making Yuuri feel like he was flying, high enough to reach out and touch the stars. Victor did it again, and Yuuri could do this forever, never getting tired of it. He caressed the side of Victor's face to let him know how he felt, and Victor grinned at him._

_He was a little out of breath when they froze in the ending pose, Victor dipping him, their noses almost touching, Victor's arms warm and solid around Yuuri's waist. Yuuri felt giddy, wondering how he'd even known how to do that. Or how Victor had known how to do it, for that matter. Not like he cared; they'd done this, together._

_"I did great, right Victor?" he couldn't help but ask, even with Victor's minty breath washing over his lips._

_"Of course, that was amazing," Victor answered, his voice low yet full of love, pure admiration in those eyes that Yuuri wouldn't mind staring into for the rest of his life. "I couldn't be more proud, you were absolutely beautiful, my Yuuri."_

_Yuuri cracked a smile, feeling dazed._

_My Yuuri. His Yuuri. Yuuri-_

"Yuuri!"

That was the noise of someone loudly banging on his door. Startled awake, Yuuri was roughly pulled from his fantasies, his heart sinking at the loss.

"Rise and shine!" Minako chirped, marching through the door of his bedroom with a certain determination. "I've got a lot planned for today!"

Yuuri cursed to himself, burying his head in both his hands. It was going to be another long day, that was a given.

~~~

In the week that followed, everyone seemed to be hovering. To Yuuri's great dismay, because even though his family and friends obviously meant well, them walking on eggshells around him all the time was smothering him like nothing ever had before.

They treated him like a house of cards; as if one wrong word or one wrong piece of information would cause him to collapse on the spot.

On a Tuesday night the Nishigoris came over for dinner, and although it was a nice distraction, Yuuko and Takeshi were both way too tense and reserved for Yuuri to let down his guard completely. Even the triplets were unusually quiet.

On Wednesday, Mari handed Yuuri her phone, informing him that Phichit was on the line, eager to talk to him. It was good, hearing his friend again, but Phichit sounded off as well, and Yuuri couldn't quite put his finger on why that was.

Yuuri felt like being in one of those movies where some sort of conspiracy against the main character was going on, a scenario in which he remained utterly helpless and clueless while all of the supporting characters merrily went about their day as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, even though meanwhile, Yuuri was going out of his mind.

On Thursday night, he'd had enough. He was feeling restless, his skin itching, his heart pounding too loudly in his ears. He needed to blow off some steam, needed to do something useful with all of that energy that he'd normally save for skating practice.

Recklessly, he made a decision, throwing his skates and some clothes into his old backpack. His head hadn't bothered him in over two days now; he would listen to his body, he'd skate for a bit to calm himself down like he'd do on nights such as this one, but he would stop if it became too much. That sounded like a fair enough deal to Yuuri.

He hardly felt bad for sneaking out of Yu-topia after claiming that he was going to bed early, and he inwardly prayed that Yuuko was still at the Ice Castle, even though it was nearly nine pm.

Luck was on his side, to Yuuri's astonishment, and Yuuko was beaming brightly when she glanced at him from over her shoulder as she saw Yuuri enter the lobby. However not much later, her face did fall a bit when she spotted the training equipment that he'd brought with him.

"Something tells me that your family doesn't know you're here," Yuuko accused, quizzically raising an eyebrow at him. "Not to mention Minako, she made it clear that you weren't supposed to skate for another week or so."

Yuuri sighed, giving her a pleading look. "I feel fine, I promise. I only came here to clear my head, I swear that I won't exhaust myself, but I desperately need this... Please don't tell any of the others, you of all people should understand, right?"

Yuuko's stern gaze slowly wavered, and then she heaved a sigh as well. Yuuri could tell that his friend was going to take pity on him, thank god.

"But no jumps, Yuuri," she warned as she gestured for him to go ahead and enter the rink. "No jumps whatsoever until you're fully healed, or I _will_ tell Minako."

"Of course, just skating, no jumps," he repeated with a relieved smile, a hand over his heart, gladly accepting those terms. "I promise."

~~~

Being back at the Ice Castle left Yuuri with a peculiar feeling. He couldn't tell if it was a good feeling or a bad one, not yet. They'd done some light redecorating since when he last remembered skating here, but for the most part it was still the place he knew and loved. The familiarity of it all calmed him down, as did the feeling of his blades smoothly sliding across the ice, combined with the chill of the rink.

Yuuko was watching him, insisting that she wanted to stay near in case Yuuri didn't feel as well as he claimed, and Yuuri let her, his friend's presence comforting him.

For a while he was simply warming up, skating aimless patterns, trying to get back into the groove of things after not setting a foot on the ice for nearly three weeks. Yuuko watched him like a hawk, but after a while she relaxed a bit, her shoulders less tense, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

By now, Yuuri was searching for some less abstract routines to skate, preferably an old program, something that came easily to him and didn't require too much brain activity.

He suddenly thought back to the dream that he'd had the other night; he'd been skating with Victor, which was ridiculous of course, but the choreography and the music they'd been skating to... Yuuri _had_ recognized that. Could it have been one the programs that had gotten him that silver medal at the Grand Prix Final this year?

"Hey Yuuko?" he called out to his friend; she was still patiently standing at the side of the rink. "Will you watch this, and maybe tell me what it is?"

She quickly agreed with a warm "sure!" and a thumbs up, and Yuuri took his position in the middle of the rink, lifting his head to the ceiling, already hearing the music in his head. _Stay close to me, don't leave._

And from there on, it was all muscle memory, apparently. Every move, every spin, every step sequence... He'd promised Yuuko that he wouldn't attempt any jumps, and so he didn't, but as he skated the program, he was so familiar with it that he even knew exactly which jump was supposed to go where, in which order it was supposed to happen.

A quadruple lutz, quadruple flip (ha, Yuuri wanted to laugh at himself, as if he'd ever be able to land one of those, he was starting to suspect that this was not his program after all), flying sit spin, quad salchow, triple lutz, triple flip, quadruple toe loop, followed by a triple toe loop, and of course the combination spin.

Despite skipping the jumps, Yuuri still needed to recover some of his usual energy, and he was panting as he came to a stop right in front of Yuuko. She gaped at him, wide eyed, stunned.

"You... You remembered something," she whispered, sounding awed.

"I did? I mean- what was _that_?" he asked between two sharp breaths. "Was this one of the programs that I worked on this season?"

Her eyes were searching his face, as if assessing the situation. Yuuri feared that she wasn't going to answer him at all, but then she did, knocking the breath right out of him.

"It wasn't your program, Yuuri. It was _Victor Nikiforov's_."

~~~

Walking home, Yuuri's brain was playing his conversation with Yuuko on repeat like a broken record. The cool night air made him shiver as he tried to look for clues, once more hoping to find something that he was missing.

She'd explained to him how he'd been feeling down after his results in Sochi, how he'd been depressed at first, but how trying to watch and copy Victor's new routine like him and Yuuko did in the old days, had helped him to find his love for skating again.

All of that sounded plausible, sounded like something Yuuri would do while dealing with his depression and anxiety when they were both at a peak. Regardless, Yuuri knew his friend, and that look in her eyes... She'd been keeping something from him. Yuuko would never flat-out lie, it wasn't in her nature, but she hadn't been telling him the whole story either, that much was a given. Yuuri's suspicions had been confirmed when Takeshi had walked in on them, his concern as evident as Yuuko's when he'd picked up on their topic of conversation.

When he got back to Yu-topia, Yuuri tried to stay as quiet as possible when sneaking back inside. He succeeded, even made it up the stairs, but then froze in place when he heard footsteps coming his way. _Crap._ Probably Mari. Like Yuuri, she was stuck in the habit of staying up late. Yuuri glanced around the hallway, the door to his left catching his eye.

Perfect, Yuuri recalled that it was an empty banquet room that they hadn't used in years, it would be a decent hiding spot. He slipped inside and subtly closed the door, placing his ear against the solid wood to listen as footsteps came and went. He breathed in relief when silence fell. Good, he'd dodged that impending lecture.

Instinctively, he looked over his shoulder, only to have his jaw going slack when he noted, even in the dark, that the room where he'd chosen to hide wasn't as empty as he'd expected it to be.

"What the..." Yuuri mumbled, flipping the light switch.

He blinked as he observed what the old room looked like now. It was tastefully decorated with all kinds of art, a modern looking sofa, a giant bed, and lamps. A lot of lamps. It didn't have the rather sober furniture that was standard for the other guest rooms at Yu-Topia, and Yuuri wondered what the purpose of this room was these days.

He cautiously made his way to the shelves full of books, forcing down a hysterical snort when he saw a single framed picture of Victor Nikiforov, one where he was skating, looking like something straight out of a fairy tale. It had always been one of Yuuri's favorite pictures of his idol.

Surely they'd redecorated this room to attract guests of the more wealthy kind to their otherwise modest inn, and Mari had probably put the picture there as a joke, in case Yuuri would ever notice. Good one.

Exhaustion slowly creeping up on him, Yuuri took a few steps back, sighing as he sat down on the edge of the king sized bed, the endless storm of thoughts in his head refusing to calm down.

 _Hmm, comfy_.

Looking around, he didn't notice any personal belongings anywhere. And the door hadn't been locked, so surely nobody was staying here...

He figured that it wouldn't hurt anyone if he tested this bed -ten times more comfortable than his old creaky bed, thank you very much-, seeing as no one was occupying this suite anyway. It would be a waste to not take a tiny power nap, right? Right.

But as soon as Yuuri's head hit the pillow, his eyes flew wide open again. Aside from a scent that he vaguely remembered -associating said scent with strolls along the beach and late night talks and butterfly kisses-, for whatever reason, he was immediately confident about one fact, and he voiced it out loud to nobody in particular.

_"I've slept in this bed before!"_

All but tripping over his own feet as he got up, Yuuri hastily collected his backpack, half running out of the room, not looking back until he made it to his own room, firmly closing the door behind him.

There it was again. That eerie hollow feeling in his stomach. In his chest. In his very being. Yuuri was breathing unevenly when he threw himself onto his own bed, grabbing his pillow until his knuckles turned pale.

He didn't know how long it took him to fall asleep, but he could swear that the sun was already beginning to rise when he slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

"Mom? What did you and dad do to that old banquet room on the second floor?" Yuuri decided to interrogate his mom the next morning while he was helping her out in the kitchen with the dishes. "You know, the one with the fancy sofa, and the big bed," he added in a tone too casual.

Yuuri put down the plate that he'd been washing, not wanting to miss his mother's exact reaction, glancing sideways at her. She paled visibly, at which Yuuri wasn't even surprised anymore; they were _all_ hiding things from him.

"We thought it would be a nice addition for guests who are looking for more comfort, especially European guests are more likely to stay when a suite like that is an option," she clarified after a brief silence, her eyes swiftly shifting back to the vegetables that she was chopping.

"Of course," Yuuri muttered a tad harshly, well aware that those two words were dripping with both sarcasm and annoyance.

_Of course. Of course you're hiding your face when I'm asking for an explanation. Of course I won't even have to bring up that the room is familiar to me somehow, because you already know but you're not going to tell me the truth anyway. Of course I can't count on anyone to be honest with me anymore._

Upon seeing the weary look in his mother's eyes, Yuuri realized his mistake. She loved him. She couldn't be doing this on purpose, not with her goal being to hurt him.

"I- I'm sorry, mom," he apologized in a whisper, ducking his head. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, I just... I feel like so many parts of me are missing, and I feel so empty, all the time. Sometimes I... I get frustrated."

A warm hand came to rest on Yuuri's shoulder, squeezing him gently.

"Oh, I can only imagine, dear," she hummed, sounding almost as sad as Yuuri felt. "You're missing _Vicchan_. I'm sure that somehow your heart is calling out for him, it's to be expected that you're in pain."

Yuuri frowned up at his mother, her train of thought suddenly hard to follow.

Because granted, it had been weird at first, finding out that the family dog had died over a year ago, rather than a short week ago. But Yuuri had made peace with it, had come to understand that this was a grieving process already behind him. Being back here, part of him missed his old friend for sure, but that wasn't what this was, it couldn't be.

"Thanks, mom... But I don't think that it's Vicchan that I'm missing," he mumbled dismissively.

Another squeeze to his shoulder, and a sympathetic smile from his mother before she hugged him tightly. Yuuri randomly remembered a quote from that weird British TV show involving aliens that Phichit had often watched during the time that they'd lived together. _'Never trust a hug, it's just a way to hide your face'._

"Trust me on this one, Yuuri," she insisted, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Vicchan _is_ the thing you're missing."

Yuuri felt a little nauseous when she let him go.

~~~

If anything, that talk with his mother made Yuuri fiercely determined to remember. Remember something, _anything_. The only consolation here was that at least he now knew where to start; the one time when he'd finally remembered anything specific, anything tangible, was last night, when he'd been on the ice for the first time since the accident.

Which, come to think of it, wasn't all that surprising. The rink had always been Yuuri's safe space, the place where he'd go to clear his head or to organize his thoughts when his anxiety got the best of him. If he wanted to remember at all, that could be a possible key.

And so after a quick lunch, Yuuri didn't hesitate, making his way to Minako's ballet studio. He'd confess everything, he'd admit that he'd broken the rules, but he'd also tell her how it had helped him.

The door of the studio wasn't locked, and Yuuri shuffled inside, figuring that Minako was teaching some of the local kids. But all was quiet as Yuuri took off his coat, at least until he vaguely heard his coach's voice, the sound coming from the tiny office in the back.

He followed the sound, but paused when he almost reached the door to Minako's office. What he heard was a one-sided conversation; she appeared to be on the phone with someone, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to hear that the exchange was rather intense.

Yuuri knew that it wasn't polite to listen in, but he couldn't help himself, holding his breath as he tried to catch what she was saying.

_"Of course, I get it, you love him, you miss him, and believe me if I could wave my magic wand to make him remember, I would. I've never seen him as happy as when he was with you, but you saw how he was after the accident when you-"_

A pause, Yuuri assumed that the person on the other side of the line was talking.

_"Yes, I know! I'm not saying he doesn't need you, but even if we're going to explain this to him, what do you expect? Surely you remember what it was like when you first showed up here in Hasetsu? At times he was too skittish to even properly look you in the eye, and in his mind, he's there again! You being here would put so much pressure on him, it'll only make him more anxious and terrified. Not the best circumstances if we want him to heal and recover his memories, huh?"_

Another silence, and by now it was obvious that whoever she was talking to, they were talking about Yuuri. The silence was followed by a deep defeated sigh from Minako.

_"Look, whatever you decide, I can't stop you. Hell, I can't even really blame you if you're no longer able to stay away, but I'm begging you to make the right choice here and give it more time."_

One more pause, a short one this time.

_"Yes, if anything changes, you'll be the first one to know. Hang in there, alright?"_

Complete silence.

Yuuri's mind was racing. Someone missed him? Someone _loved_ him? Had he been seeing someone recently?

Forcing down all of those questions and throwing them on the ' _later_ ' pile, Yuuri tried to compose himself, waiting a few seconds before walking into the office with footsteps that were slightly exaggerated.

"Minako sensei, hi!" he greeted nonchalantly, praying that it was convincing.

Despite Yuuri's effort, she looked like she'd recently been committing a crime. He knew what he could do to turn that around though, confident that his request would be the perfect distraction.

"I ehm... I really need to talk to you."

Before long, everything was out in the open. Sneaking away to go to the Ice Castle, Yuuko supporting him, and most of all; Yuuri remembering something important.

To Yuuri's relief, Minako hardly looked upset at any of these revelations.

"Oh well, what can I say, I guess it's already a miracle that you lasted as long as you did without going there," she responded, a knowing glint in her eyes as she sat down on the edge of her desk. "And I'm glad that you're at least remembering something, so if your head isn't hurting anymore and you're not experiencing any dizziness, you're allowed to keep going. Keep it calm though, no crazy jumps or pushing yourself too far, I _will_ be keeping an eye on you."

"Thank you!" he immediately breathed out in relief. "I promise I'll take it easy, I'm just hoping that it can trigger some memories, if that makes sense? After all, I did spend more of my time on the ice than off? Maybe if I start by trying to skate the programs that I used for the Grand Prix Final this season... See what I can remember without help."

Minako nodded in agreement as she got up and walked around the desk, searching one of the drawers, and then handing something to Yuuri with a faint smile.

It was a CD, the case transparent, allowing Yuuri to see the title, written on it with black marker.

_'Yuuri on Ice.'_

"This was the music for your free skate," she elaborated upon Yuuri's questioning look. "The program that also happens to reflect on the past year of your life, so I'd say that's a good place to start."

Yuuri thanked her at least two more times before he made to leave, planning to go home to collect his skates, but Minako stopped him by calling after him.

"Yuuri, wait..."

He glanced at her over his shoulder, immediately identifying the object that she was holding up to him. A white iPhone with a blue case, tiny poodles decorating it.

"You're an adult, and your head is almost fully healed. No matter what your doctor said, I can't keep this from you any longer. It's not my choice to make, and sooner or later you'll go looking elsewhere anyway," she muttered.

Yuuri was speechless as she handed him the phone, unsure how to feel about it.

It had been so simple, others making the decision for him, telling him that going through his old pictures and conversations, or going on the internet and looking things up about himself, wasn't in his best interest. Truth be told, that was also the reason why he hadn't sneakily gone looking on any of the other devices at the inn, even though he could have by now; he knew that his friends and family loved him and hadn't kept things from him just to taunt him, therefore he was scared as to what he was going to find out.

"Whether or not you want to charge it and take a look, that should be up to you," Minako told him with a brief touch to his shoulder, as if guessing his thoughts. "All I'm asking is, until you recover more memories, _choose wisely_."


	3. Chapter 3

**\---**

_Baby, turn the light out_   
_I can see there's something crying in your smile now_   
_Yeah you used to be the glitter in the dirt_   
_But now you say it's just, you feel a little dusty_

_** Anna Nalick, the Lullaby Singer ** _

**\---**

 

 _Choose wisely._ Great. Yuuri nervously chewed his bottom lip as he eyed the charger on his desk, his trembling fingers locked around the phone in his hand.

Okay, yeah; that wasn't happening right now. Yuuri tossed the phone onto his bed, putting that idea on hold, instead collecting his skates and changing into his training outfit. First things first. Attempting to skate to the music of his podium worthy routine was definitely the lesser of two evils here.

Yuuko wasn't at the rink today, spending some mother/daughter time with the triplets, but Takeshi was there, and more than willing to help.

"Ready, Yuuri?" Takeshi called from the side of the rink.

Yuuri gave him a thumbs up. "As ready as I'll ever be," he mumbled to himself.

Takeshi pressed play, watching him expectantly as soft piano music echoed through the room. Yuuri didn't know what his beginning pose was supposed to be, and so he had no other choice but to start skating without a goal or a plan, hoping against hope that his body eventually would remember what he couldn't.

But he had no clue as he aimlessly circled the rink, nothing coming back to him, not even the music ringing any bells, beautiful as it was. Unlike with the borrowed program that belonged to Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri couldn't remember a single spin or step sequence, didn't even recall which jump usually happened where.

The music ended too soon, and Yuuri stopped at the exit of the rink, where Takeshi was frowning at him.

"Nothing, huh?" he asked, shooting Yuuri a sympathetic smile.

"Nothing," Yuuri repeated bleakly, disappointed. "Let's do it one more time."

~~~

One more time turned into five, then ten, then fifteen. Minako joined them at some point, even gave him a few helpful hints about the starting and ending poses, but nothing changed. Yuuri gave up, reluctantly trading his skates for his shoes, thanking his friends and suggesting that maybe they could try again tomorrow.

He got home around dinner time, but wasn't feeling all that hungry. _A shocker, really,_ he sarcastically thought to himself. He went straight to his room, and a night of sulking was what he'd had in mind. However when he wanted to fall down onto his unmade bed, he realized that something was already on it. That something being a black clothing bag.

Yuuri studied the object; his parents or sister must've put it there while he was gone. There was a neatly typed note as well, and Yuuri studied the address of the sender, finding that it was the hospital where he'd stayed in Barcelona.

**_'Our apologies for the delay, thank you for your patience. Wishing you a fast recovery, Hospital Clínic de Barcelona.'_ **

Zipping open the bag, a costume was revealed, silky, all blue, black and silver, and absolutely stunning. That must've been what he'd been wearing when he'd hit his head during his exhibition; the hospital even had it dry cleaned before sending it back.

But upon taking a closer look, Yuuri suddenly felt as if he'd just swallowed a rock, his stomach sinking with dread. He _knew_ that costume, because it was the same one that hallucination-Victor had been wearing. The only detail not matching were the differing colors; the Victor in his head had been dressed in a purple version, but either way, Yuuri's brain had clearly taken inspiration from his own exhibition costume to make that outfit up for not-Victor. Or actually, wait, not _his_ exhibition costume, because hadn't the original take on it belonged to Victor Nikiforov to begin with, the _real_ Victor Nikiforov? The one in pink and gold that Victor had chosen for his free skate? What possibly could've happened for Yuuri to sink as low as to copy his idol's costume for an exhibition? Had Victor been angry?

Pulling the zipper up again, he tried not to think about whatever moment of temporary insanity that must have been. He put the costume away, closing the door of his closet with a firm smack. Tempted, he glanced at the phone on his pillow, contemplating, weighing whether or not it could be worth it.

With a tired groan he sat down on the very edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Running his fingers through his already hopelessly messy hair, he glanced up, his gaze falling on the framed picture on his desk. Victor Nikiforov was smiling still, frozen in time, looking eternally happy  about something that would forever remain a mystery to Yuuri.

"What would _you_ do, then?" Yuuri mockingly asked the image of his idol, rolling his eyes. "You always seem so confident about _everything_ in life."

Victor didn't answer, offered nothing but that never wavering smile. Which, when keeping in mind Yuuri's sanity, was probably a good sign.

Defeated, Yuuri went to bed early that night, but was plagued by a nightmare.

_He skated to the middle of the rink, all eyes on him, the audience cheering loudly. He was wearing a black costume decorated with gemstones and hints of silver and red. A costume that he actually recognized, because it had belonged to Victor Nikiforov himself, back in Victor's junior days._

_Having no idea where he even got that, Yuuri rolled with it, knowing that his main priority right now was to seduce the audience and the judges. Nothing else mattered, he needed to perform like his very life depended on it, needed to make sure that no one could look away._

_The lights were too bright to Yuuri's liking, but then the music started, some instrumental melody that was captivating, yet undeniably erotic. Yuuri panicked and blacked out, not knowing what to do; this music was so not him, he couldn't work with that! He could never skate to something like this, the mere suggestion was laughable. He couldn't focus, didn't recall how the program that he was supposed to skate went, and meanwhile impatient murmurs were beginning to rise from the audience._

_"I can't do it... I can't skate like that," he whispered to himself, burying his head in his hands, trying to tune out the unhappy noises coming from the spectators._

_When he glimpsed through his fingers, his heart skipped a beat when he spotted the one and only Victor Nikiforov at the side of the rink , disapprovingly glaring at Yuuri with his icy blue eyes._

_"Yuuri! How do you expect to seduce any of them if you can't even seduce me?" Victor scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment._

_"I'm sorry!" Yuuri exclaimed frantically as he let himself fall, knees scraping against the ice. "I'm sorry I let you down! I didn't mean to!"_

Yuuri woke up sweating, trapped in the prison of his own blankets. He tried to calm his racing heart by taking deep, steady breaths.

This was getting ridiculous, and he wondered why and how everything had shifted.

He was the first to admit that Victor had always inspired and motivated him, the Russian skater was a living legend after all, someone to look up to for most professional figure skaters.

But ever since the accident, Yuuri's mind seemed to keep whispering Victor's name at all hours of the day. Whether he was skating, or eating breakfast, or even sleeping... Thoughts of Victor Nikiforov were prominently present at all times nowadays, and although Yuuri had admired the guy since he was a kid, he knew for a fact that he'd hadn't obsessed over him like that in ages. He'd left his posters along with his childhood crush behind when he'd turned eighteen and left for Detroit to seriously start working on his own skating career, still occasionally sparing the Russian skater a thought, but nothing like this.

Admittedly, the thought of finally meeting Victor on the ice as an equal at a competition had always been there in the back of his head, a distant goal that he would've loved to achieve. But Yuuri's main focus had been to be _good_ at what he'd worked so hard for. To enjoy the ride and to be proud of himself, and his family and friends being proud of him after all of the unconditional support that they'd given him for years.

So why did his broken mind dwell on Victor of all people? None of it added up, because Yuuri knew Victor the public figure, Victor the ice skater and Russia's living legend, but he hardly knew Victor the person. He knew as much as whatever fresh gossip was spread about Victor's personal life every once in a while, but he was well aware that he had to consume even _that_ with a nice large bowl of _let's-not-immediately-assume-that-this-is-legit_ on the side.

What had changed?

Yuuri slipped out of bed, giving up on sleep, his thoughts too loud. There were too many questions and no answers, and it left him anxious and frustrated once again.

As irony would have it, he ended up in the inn's backroom with the ancient TV, watching one of his old DVDs, the one titled _'Best programs, Victor Nikiforov'_. There was some truth in that saying that claimed that old habits died hard; this had been Yuuri's go to method to put his mind at ease back when he was younger.

Victor still had long hair in all of them, and for the first time in a while, Yuuri idly wondered why he'd eventually decided to cut it.

 _"You know why, he told you,"_ answered a quiet voice in the back of his head.

Yuuri called bullshit on that one. Because he _didn't_ know why, and the suggestion that he did know because Victor told him, was downright hilarious.

~~~

Yuuri fell asleep in front of the TV, waking up to a black screen, his glasses askew, his face resting against the unforgiving floor. The sun was already peeking in through the windows, and he crawled to his feet, craving a shower and some breakfast.

He turned off the TV and slipped out of the room, only to bump right into his father, who greeted him enthusiastically.

"Yuuri, there you are! Look, these got delivered for you just now," he announced, handing something to Yuuri that he'd missed at first glance because he'd still been half asleep. "Better put them in some water though," he added with a smile, then patted Yuuri on the back before he wandered off again.

Mouth hanging open, Yuuri stared at the giant bouquet in his arms. Blue roses, at least fifty of them. Taking a better look, Yuuri saw that there was a tiny card. He swallowed thickly as he read it.

_'I miss you, my Yuuri. I'll always be waiting for you to meet me where you are.'_

There was no name, but something clicked in Yuuri's brain; the conversation over the phone that he'd overheard the other day. _"I get it, you love him, you miss him,"_ Minako had said.

Did this mean that one of the potentially overwhelming changes in his life this past year was that Yuuri had a lover now? Because clearly this wasn't a random friendly gesture. Besides, the person sending this already had to know Yuuri well, seeing as they'd picked blue roses; everyone somewhat familiar with figure skating knew that it was Victor Nikiforov's favorite flower. Whoever sent this, they had to be in on the fact that Yuuri was a Nikiforov fan.

So what was it then? Where was the catch? Had this person hurt Yuuri somehow? Why weren't they here with him now? Why would Yuuri need shielding from whoever this was?

" _Believe me, if I could wave my magic wand to make him remember, I would. I've never seen him as happy as when he was with you!"_

That was what Minako had said when she'd been on the phone. So she approved of whoever Yuuri was seeing, or she wouldn't have encouraged their relationship like that. Which brought Yuuri back to the same old riddle that needed solving; what was the big issue here? What was it that he failed to understand about the situation? Should he just bite the bullet and ask without beating around the bush? Would they even give him a straight answer?

After a dip in the hot springs and a light breakfast, he was no closer to a solution. He figured he might as well do what he did by default when facing any kind of obstacle in life, and he ended up jogging in the general direction of the Ice Castle.

He still hadn't dared to charge his phone or to fire up his laptop after Mari had returned it to him, but he suspected that he was close to a breaking point. He saved that possibility for later.

When he got to the rink, Yuuko was there, and she had that particular smile that told Yuuri that she was up to something.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she chuckled.

"Okay, whatever it is, you might as well tell me," Yuuri prompted as he sat down on one of the benches to put on his skates.

Grinning down at him, Yuuko held up a CD case. _'On Love, Eros'_ , it said.

"What's that?" Yuuri asked as he finished tying his skates, curious now.

Yuuko shrugged. "After I dropped the girls off for school the other day, I went to Minako's. You never tried to remember your short program for this season, not yet... She had a copy of the music, and I was hoping you'd like to give it a try."

Yuuri perked up, his interest piqued. He agreed, deep down praying that he'd be able to remember this one like he'd remembered Victor's program.

"Sure... Why not."

Letting out a squeal of delight, Yuuko pulled him towards the rink, a fierce glint in her eyes.

Like he'd done with Takeshi the other day, Yuuri skated to the center of the ice, waiting for his friend to turn on the music. And then she did, and everything stopped. Yuuri wanted to skate, but he couldn't. His blades might as well have been glued to the ice, for he felt paralyzed.

That song wasn't news; that song, he _knew_. It was fresh in his mind, as fresh as the nightmare that had used this very song as its fascinating yet seductive soundtrack.

Observing that something wasn't right, Yuuko turned off the music.

"Are you alright, Yuuri? Did you remember something?" she called from the side of the rink, her hands nervously toying with the CD player's remote. "You look a little pale..."

Slowly skating towards her, Yuuri shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know how the routine goes, but I... I remember the music."

Yuuko's face lit up a bit when they met at the rink's entrance . "But that's good then, isn't it? You're remembering something again, even if it's a little thing!"

"Yeah... I guess," Yuuri mumbled, pausing briefly before blurting out what truly bothered him about all this. "Hey Yuuko, did Minako sensei choreograph this program for me?"

Yuuko avoided his eyes for a split second, then looked back up at him and shook her head.

"She ehm... She helped you, but someone else with a bit more experience choreographed the program. She- Minako wanted the best for you," Yuuko replied quietly. "Why do you ask?"

Yuuri sighed as he leaned against the side of the rink. "I just... I skated to _that_?! That music, it just isn't _me_. I don't think I could ever skate to something like this without looking like a giant idiot, I'm seriously wondering who on earth thought that this would be a good choice for me."

Putting a hand over Yuuri's, Yuuko smiled wistfully.

"You may not see it now, but it _was_ a good choice. That program was the change you needed, it brought out the best in you. You surprised people the way you couldn't before. I'd go as far as to say that you even surprised yourself. It..." Yuuko hesitated.

"It what?" Yuuri probed.

"It was the start of _everything_. This is what got you to that silver medal. You never really lacked technical skills or stamina, all you needed was more confidence, and to believe in yourself. This program... It was thought out very well, and it did all of that for you. It gave you everything that you were _missing_ , Yuuri."

Yuuri stared at her in silence, no words coming out. He'd skated, to _that_ , in actual competitions. And apparently he hadn't sucked at it, because he never would've succeeded like that at the Grand Prix Final if he hadn't been convincing when skating Eros.

After a moment of inwardly debating with himself, Yuuri knew what he wanted to do.

"Yuuko, can we bend the rules a little? Will you show me how the routine goes so that I can try to skate it again?"

Naturally, Yuuko didn't let him down. She never did.

~~~

Yuuri skated, and skated, and skated. Yuuko's directions and his own experience were enough for him to loosely recreate the program as it was originally meant to be, but he still had trouble believing that this could've been him.

The program _did_ fit him, technically. The step sequence was right up his alley, and the quads at the very back of the program wouldn't be a problem for Yuuri either, not with his stamina. That was, if he was actually able to not stumble on the landings. When he skated it properly for the second time, he couldn't resist sneaking in that one Triple Axel though -he was breaking his own rules now anyway-, and he felt so much better when he landed it flawlessly without trying too hard.

Then again, it had always been easy, this way; skating in private, just Yuuri and maybe some friends or family to cheer him on, but no other prying eyes to judge him or to make him feel self conscious.

All things considered, he was feeling lighter when he headed home around dinner time, not refusing the pork cutlet bowl that his mother offered him.

Mari picked up on the change in his mood, and when it was only the two of them, she shamelessly started to interrogate him.

"What's gotten into you, little brother? You seem unusually cheerful today."

Yuuri made a face at her, but oh well, she wasn't wrong.

"I skated to Eros today," he confessed, shrugging and putting down his chopsticks. "Yuuko helped me."

To Yuuri's astonishment, Mari let out a low whistle.

"Nice, that program did bring out the best in you," she supplied, her tone more serious.

Yuuri nodded; Yuuko had said the exact same thing.

"I doubted it at first, that I'd be able to skate to that. I wasn't going to, but then... Yuuko also said that this was the program that brought out another side of me, the program that changed it all, that made me more confident in myself. And then when I tried to skate it, I felt good."

Mari laughed softly at that, shaking her head.

"What? What's funny? Wasn't Yuuko telling the truth?" Yuuri asked, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

With a silent sigh, Mari got up from the table, picking up their empty bowls.

"Yes, and no," she replied vaguely. "The program helped, but it was never really about _what_ you were skating to, it was about _who_ you were skating for."

It took Yuuri's brain a few seconds to catch up, but when he did, he got up as well, demanding an answer from his sister.

"Mari wait, what do you mean by that? _Who_ do you mean by that?" he begged.

All he got was another headshake from her before she disappeared into the kitchen. When she got like that, there was no point in chasing after her. The gesture clearly meant _'my lips are sealed, you're on your own'_.

Yuuri sucked it up and went to his room, the vase with the blue roses on his desk welcoming him.

He was half tempted to throw it out of the window, because if whoever sent it didn't care enough to be with him to help him find himself now that he needed it most, then how much was it worth anyway?

Luckily, his mother had always taught him that violence wasn't the way, and so he settled for simply glowering at the offensive flowers. He'd considered it, telling Yuuko or Mari about the gift, asking either of them where it came from. Only to dismiss the idea when he'd feared that they weren't going to fill in the blanks for him anyway, which would leave him upset again, something he'd chosen to avoid in order to do something productive instead by learning the Eros program.

"If you miss me that much, then why aren't you here, huh?" Yuuri snapped to no one in particular. "If you love me, then why aren't you going to help me?"

Reaching a whole new level of frustration, Yuuri's eyes flickered to the phone on his nightstand. He took a deep breath, and plugged it into the charger.

When it came to life, it only took Yuuri one glance at the home screen to see that he had nearly three hundred unread text messages, and about ninety missed phone calls. The mere thought of going through all of them, including what he might find in there, made Yuuri's heart beat erratically in his chest. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do any of this.

Maybe it was better to remain blissfully unaware. To go back to skating, to take it easy by not forcing himself to make it to the world championships, but try to maybe make a comeback at the next Grand Prix Final without knowing a single detail.

At least that way, his anxiety wouldn't sabotage him like it normally did. Perhaps for once, it could all be simple and uncomplicated. He could make the best of the holes in his memory, his little world narrowed down to the town by the sea where he'd been spending the first eighteen years of his life, surrounded by only family and friends and other familiar faces. No unrealistic expectations, just skating, which was what Yuuri loved doing most.

Yeah right, who was he kidding? Life didn't work that way, he couldn't live in a bubble, not as a professional figure skater. It had been nearly three weeks since the accident, and sooner rather than later, he had to stop hiding, unless he wanted to put his career on hold. And he didn't want that, not now that he was finally making progress, not now that he'd won silver at the Grand Prix Final.

"Just a little longer won't hurt though," he muttered to himself, turning off the phone and throwing it in a drawer. "I'll take a look tomorrow."

He was merely trying to convince himself here. He hardly succeeded, if the restless sleep that he slipped into that night was anything to go by.

~~~

He spent as many hours as possible at the Ice Castle in the days that followed. Keeping himself busy, keeping his mind clear. There wasn't much time to think while he was studying his recent routines and attempted to skate them, which was a good thing. Minako had caved and told him the basics of the 'Yuuri on Ice' program, and he was currently working on that.

This was supposedly Yuuri's story, what his life had been like between the disaster in Sochi and his head injury in Barcelona. Although the music started off fragile and a bit somber, the piece quickly became very powerful and uplifting.

Yuuri tried to use his imagination to reconstruct the story. The start of it was obvious; Yuuri at his lowest, when he'd at last made it to the finals, only to suffer from it because he'd lost his friend Vicchan and hadn't been able to perform as he should have. He'd felt embarrassed, ashamed, but most of all, despite the never ending support of his friends and family; he'd felt _lonely_.

The beginning of the song conveyed that feeling perfectly, so much so that Yuuri was feeling it in his gut as he skated the opening. With a year of memories missing, he could relate still.

It were the parts after, that left him wondering. Wondering what could've been enough to make him believe in himself like never before. Wondering what it could've been after all of those years, what it was that had turned his black roses blue when he'd thought that he'd never again appreciate color in his life.

Going into the second half of the program, Yuuri knew that plenty of jumps were coming up. He selected a few of them, the less difficult ones, and landed them without messing up. He caught a glimpse of Minako, shaking her head in amusement from the side of the rink, but Yuuko on the other hand was cheering loudly.

Yuuri had listened to his body though, and physically, he was fine. No more headaches, and he'd only been missing practice for a couple of weeks; he wasn't out of shape at all. In fact, he almost felt like the random break and getting some extra rest had made him stronger.

The program came to a close, and Yuuri was mildly out of breath but remembered to reach out his right arm for the ending pose. And there he was, pointing at... Well, nothing. He'd instinctively held his hand out towards the rink's entrance, even though Minako and Yuuko hadn't been standing anywhere near it.

He frowned when he glanced at his friends over his shoulder. No matter how discreet they were trying to be, Yuuri wasn't oblivious to the looks that Minako and Yuuko exchanged. But neither of them mentioned it as they shuffled to the exit to meet him.

"You did well," Minako praised, her tone subdued.

"Did you ehm, remember something?" Yuuko added lightly.

Yuuri didn't buy it.

"Nothing," he responded mechanically.

They'd seen something while he'd been skating the program; he wasn't an idiot. They'd noticed something that Yuuri had missed, but they weren't letting him in, as per usual.

"I'm calling it a day," Yuuri said curtly, walking out on them, refusing to waste more energy on their well meant conspiracies and good intentions.

Deep down, Yuuri understood that they weren't entirely to blame. He could go and look certain details up online, could try to find the missing pieces of the puzzle that was his life, even if the collateral damage would hold the power to break him. But that was just it; he didn't know what the stakes were, he didn't know what he was running from. He had no possible way of knowing whether or not the good outweighed the bad. Or if there was anything too bad at all. And for his friends to not consider any of this, instead talking behind his back when they were literally in the same room? Yuuri had to admit that it hurt.

He went through the motions of showering and changing, although he begrudgingly came to the conclusion that he might have saved himself the trouble when he had to run back to Yu-Topia in the pouring rain. He came home thoroughly soaked, and so another shower it was.

When he crawled into bed, warm and comfortable, he was positively pleased with himself when he noted that he hadn't really thought about Victor Nikiforov all day. At least there was some improvement in that department, small mercies and all that.

He passed out within a matter of minutes.

~~~

The next day, Yuuri slept in. Feeling rebellious, he made no move to go to the Ice Castle once he got up and got dressed. He knew that it was silly to be mad at his friends over something that was out of their hands as well, but he was feeling petty today.

And so he spent the afternoon helping Mari out with cleaning the hot springs, and he helped his father out in the kitchen when the first guests came around for dinner. His family didn't ask questions, but they kept shooting him looks throughout the day. Looks that said _'I'm worried about you'_.

Fair enough, because Yuuri avoiding the ice was usually a bad sign, and everyone who knew him was aware of it.

But the thing was; he could never stay away for too long. After dinner, he reluctantly gathered his skates and training outfit, finding himself at the rink thirty minutes later. 

Yuuko was still there, and she seemed somewhat jumpy tonight, but she told him to go ahead, so Yuuri didn't pry. She mentioned that she wouldn't be watching him for now because she had other business to attend to first. Yuuri was kind of grateful for that, in need of some alone time, just him and the ice. Yuuko being Yuuko, Yuuri assumed that she'd guessed that he was still a tad annoyed about last night, and that this was her respecting his wishes.

She truly was a good friend, he'd make it up to her before going home.

Yuuri had no serious skating in mind for tonight, didn't quite feel like figuring out more of Eros, didn't quite feel like figuring out more of Yuuri on Ice.

Instead he danced across the ice to music that only he could hear in his head, feeling free and light now that no one at all was watching, only the night sky peeking through the windows there to witness him.

It was always easy like this. Always easy.

Yuuri landed a triple axel again, just for fun. After that, he tried a quadruple toe loop for the hell of it, and he nailed it. A while later, the more tricky quad Salchow was what he landed next, barely having to try.

His skills had clearly improved over the past year, and that knowledge, combined with the lack of pressure, made Yuuri feel euphoric, almost giddy. No one was watching, no one was judging, this was simply Katsuki Yuuri, doing what he enjoyed doing. And without anyone watching, he was _good_ at it.

Yuuri laughed, out loud, as he did a perfect spin. He skated across the rink feeling lighter than he ever had now that he'd discovered all of these new abilities that were missing from his memory, yet remembered by his body; he wasn't afraid anymore.

He didn't know what made him decide to do it. He didn't know why he even attempted that particular jump that he'd never been able to land before when he pushed off, but he did it anyway. He was flying, soaring, and rotating, once, twice, three times, still going.

Landing steadily on his blades without stumbling or even touching down, Yuuri gasped. _A quadruple flip_. Hardly any skaters could land that one consistently, even though Victor Nikiforov always made it look like his signature move was a walk in the park. _Where the hell did that come from?_

Yuuri was pulled out of his thoughts by the distant sound of clapping, and he grinned when he realized that Yuuko must've walked in just in time to see it.

"Yuuko! Did you see what I just-" he started as his head snapped up to the source of the applause, only to fall silent when he saw that it wasn't Yuuko applauding him from the side of the rink.

Standing at the rink's entrance, clapping calmly, impeccably dressed in a long black coat but with dark circles under his eyes, yet smiling at Yuuri ever so gently, was _Victor Nikiforov_.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**___**

_I cannot go to the ocean_   
_I cannot drive the streets at night_   
_I cannot wake up in the morning_   
_Without you on my mind_   
_So you're gone and I'm haunted_   
_And I bet you are just fine_   
_Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out_   
_Of my life?_

**_ Almost Lover, A Fine Frenzy _ **

**\---**

 

So, Yuuri's first thought might have been _'holy shit,_ _run!_ ' while his second thought was definitely _'I'm going nuts again, aren't I? I'm making him up!'_

That was until Yuuko walked in, and touched Victor's shoulder in what almost looked like encouragement. She glanced from Victor to Yuuri, shooting Yuuri a half-smile that could only mean _'it's okay'_. In return, Yuuri gave her a relieved look that positively screamed _'thank god, at least you see him too',_ but then he went right back into panic mode because that would mean that _Victor Nikiforov_ was _really_ here, and why was that happening?

"I'll be near if you need me, Yuuri. I'll leave you boys to it," Yuuko quietly announced before she left the room.

All Yuuri could do was stare, open mouthed, as his friend left.

How could Yuuko leave Yuuri alone with _him_? Did this mean that Yuuri had to actually _talk_ to him? Surely that would go over well; with Yuuri being his awkward self, Victor would be out of there in no time anyway. He felt beyond exposed, standing there with shaky legs near the middle of the rink, too embarrassed to go to the exit.

Yuuri hadn't spoken a word yet, and wondered if he should, but then Victor beat him to it.

"Hello, Yuuri." Victor's voice was soft like a lullaby as he greeted Yuuri, making it sound like Yuuri's name was something that needed to be treasured at all cost. It made Yuuri shiver, and not necessarily in a bad way. He'd go as far as to say that the sound had a calming effect on him. "Will you come a little closer? I promise I won't bite, but it would be easier to talk that way, no?"

Yuuri considered that request. _Don't be a jerk_ , he told himself. _Victor Nikiforov might be a skating god, but he is still a human being. For whatever reason he's here, ignoring him wouldn't be very polite, you were raised better than that._

Complying, Yuuri tentatively skated closer to where Victor was patiently waiting for him. He still kept some distance, but if they'd both reach out their arms, their hands would be able to touch now. From up close, Victor looked even more tired and worn out, his hair disheveled, the circles framing his eyes a shade darker. As a result it also made him look more real, more _human_.

The brilliant smile that he directed at Yuuri after Yuuri had granted him his request, reached all the way up to his exhausted blue eyes, making them light up.

"Thank you," Victor said, sounding nothing but genuine.

"You- you're welcome?" Yuuri blurted out, making it sound like a question.

This was nerve racking; Yuuri had often fantasized about meeting this guy at a competition, to compete against each other on the same level, maybe formally shaking his hand afterwards. But not like this, with all of Victor's attention on Yuuri as a person, all of Yuuri's fears and shortcomings on display. Victor was perfect, gorgeous, a legend, and as far as Yuuri could tell, incredibly kind to him.

Yuuri was none of those things, and so he'd never so much as considered talking to the man, even if he were to ever meet him at the Grand Prix Final or the World Championships. Yet here he was, and Yuuri didn't know how to act.

The remarkable thing was though, during their entire interaction so far, Victor _did_ know how to act. More specifically, he knew how to act _around Yuuri_.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your training. I've been watching you for a while from behind the glass, I was going to wait to talk to you until you were done but then you..." Victor made a vague gesture with his hand but didn't finish the sentence.

He was referring to the quadruple flip, of course, and Yuuri felt his stomach turn. _Crap_. Victor Nikiforov had seen that, how Yuuri had been copying his signature move. Would that count as stealing? Was Victor mad at him because he assumed that Yuuri was going to use it against him in competitions now or something like that?

"No, no! _I_ am sorry, Mr. Nikiforov!" Yuuri abruptly apologized, just to make sure, holding up both his hands. "About the quadruple flip, I mean... I was just playing around, I know it's your jump, I probably wouldn't even be able to land it in a competition anyway, so please... Don't hate me."

Yuuri knew that he was rambling, but he couldn't stop the word vomit from spilling out. But then Victor Nikiforov _laughed_. Laughed an actual laugh, loud, and warm, his blue eyes sparkling.

"W-What's so funny?" Yuuri demanded, suddenly feeling bolder, and perhaps a bit defensive, because was this guy _laughing_ at him?

But Victor shook his head, and there were no traces of maliciousness on his handsome face.

"Nothing, _solnyshko_. Just... The suggestion that I could ever hate you is rather absurd," he explained. "And please, just call me Victor."

Yuuri didn't recognize whatever Russian word Victor had thrown in there, but Victor was looking nothing but open and friendly, and so Yuuri figured that he hadn't sneakily been insulting Yuuri in his first language.

Clearing his dry throat, Yuuri gathered his courage to speak again. "Al-right... Then can I ask something, V-victor?"

"Anything," Victor replied without missing a beat.

Not knowing how to formulate his question without sounding rude, Yuuri found himself spitting it out anyway. "Why are you here?"

There was a silence as they gazed at each other, Victor's eyes assessing Yuuri, their intensity making Yuuri want to run straight back to Yu-topia and hide in his room for approximately a month.

"Look, Yuuri..." Victor murmured eventually, running a hand through his platinum colored hair to push it out of his face. "There are so many things that you don't know, and I promise I'll give you all the space you need. If this is too much, if _I_ am too much, I'll leave and let you be. But I'm here because you and I we're... friends. And I want to help you."

If this had been one of those cartoons that he'd loved to watch as a kid, Yuuri's jaw would literally be hitting the floor at Victor's answer. Friends? _Them_?

"You-" Yuuri pointed at Victor to emphasize his point, "are friends with _me_?"

"Yes!" Victor exclaimed rather enthusiastically, his smile returning full force.

Yuuri stared at him some more. Victor was looking... hopeful? Yuuri was guessing here, Victor Nikiforov wasn't all that easy to read.

"Why?" that single word escaped Yuuri's mouth before he could regret it.

Again, Victor didn't look offended in the slightest, on the contrary; Yuuri thought he saw amusement, fondness even.

"Oh, Yuuri..." was all he said, the hint of a smile twitching at his lips still.

More staring ensued, but Victor didn't look uncomfortable at all, he was studying Yuuri without seeming in any kind of hurry to rush the conversation along.

"How did we become friends?" Yuuri pushed, finding that it was easier to talk now that his curiosity overruled his fear to make a fool of himself in front of his childhood idol.

Victor chuckled, then winked at him. "Tell you what? I brought my skates, how about you give me a minute to put them on and I'll join you on the ice? We can talk while skating together! You can ask me whatever you want to know, and I'll answer honestly."

Skate?! Skate together, as in the two of them alone at this rink with Victor Nikiforov's eyes on Yuuri all the time? _The_ Victor Nikiforov watching him skate here at the Ice Castle? Watching _again_ , after he'd already nearly given Yuuri a heart attack by secretly watching him just now? Nuh-uh, pass. Thanks but no thanks.

Yuuri only voiced that last part. "N-No, thank you."

Victor slowly raised an eyebrow at him, but a faint smile never wavered, and he didn't look like he was accusing Yuuri of anything. "Not like that, Yuuri. We're not training, no pressure, we'll just be skating for fun while you get to play twenty questions. It'll help you relax."

Fun? Russia's Victor Nikiforov, skating for _fun?_

Yuuri didn't realize that he'd said that out loud until Victor pulled a face, putting a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "You don't think I can be fun? I'm wounded, does that really sound so crazy to you?"

"A little," Yuuri confessed, he even cracked a tiny smile of his own once he got over the embarrassment of the moment, surprised at how naturally that smile came.

With every minute that passed, talking to Victor was becoming less stressful. Victor Nikiforov appeared to be, well... Not what Yuuri had expected him to be. Yuuri was undoubtedly going to regret this, but there was something about Victor that made him give in.

"But fine then, let's play your game."

~~~

Victor Nikiforov had looked irrationally excited when Yuuri had given him the green light, like a young child about to unwrap some Christmas presents. He'd all but ran off to put on his skates, and right now Yuuri was getting somewhat nervous again as he skated random figures across the rink, waiting for Victor to come back.

Not long ago, Yuuri had asked himself exactly how eventful his life could've been this year, and he'd gotten one hell of an answer to that just now. Somewhere along the way, his antisocial ass had accidentally managed to befriend Victor Nikiforov of all people, which was equal parts horrifying and exciting.

If Victor was telling the truth, that was, because Yuuri didn't even remember meeting the man.

If nothing else, Yuuri did feel like less of a creeper about that fantasy that his drugged self had come up with at the hospital, the one with a crying Victor kneeling at his bed, all dressed up, while feverishly kissing Yuuri's knuckles.

This new development meant that he hadn't been fantasizing about just his idol, he'd merely confused a regular friend with a lover in his weird fantasy, an honest mistake when under the influence. If they really were friends, with Victor being Victor, all dazzling smiles and flawless hair, it wasn't unlikely that there'd been other feelings from Yuuri's side. His woozy brain might have played on them when Yuuri had been at his weakest.

"I'm ready!" Victor called as he gracefully stepped onto the ice, putting an end to Yuuri's musings.

Yuuri's eyes darted to Victor's blades for a second, actually made of gold, then back up to Victor's face. God, he truly was beautiful, head to toe.

Victor skated up to him lazily, then circled around Yuuri with a pleasant grin.

"We had a deal, Yuuri. Ask away."

Their eyes locked as Yuuri started gliding across the ice too, and then the two of them were loosely skating circles around each other.

"Alright... How did we become friends?" Yuuri repeated his question from before.

Victor smirked and did a silly pirouette of some sort that had Yuuri bite back a laugh, and then he shrugged. "I choreographed your programs for this season. We worked on them for weeks, spending a lot of time together, and it turned out that we had many things in common."

Yuuri nearly tripped over his own two feet, shocked. So that was how he'd gotten that silver medal; his programs had been choreographed by Victor Nikiforov himself. Was that what Victor had been doing when he took time off to do 'other stuff'? Did that mean that he'd been spending his time choreographing programs for other skaters?

Then something else came to mind.

"Wait, so Eros was _your_ idea?" Yuuri asked, baffled.

"Guilty as charged," Victor confirmed cheerfully, skating backwards now so that he could still look at Yuuri while Yuuri followed him.

Yuuri had a million more questions about that subject alone, but for now there were other answers that he needed more, and he jumped to a completely different topic.

"You say that we're friends, are we close friends?" Yuuri questioned as they began circling around each other again.

"Very close," Victor responded with confidence, and then he reached out to playfully ruffle Yuuri's hair when he had a chance.

Yuuri's heart fluttered at that, but he didn't let it distract him from the topic at hand.

"Very close, huh? So what's my favorite food?" Yuuri challenged.

"Pork cutlet bowl," Victor shot back smugly, not even having to think about it.

Yuuri frowned as Victor started skating backwards again, flashing a smile and motioning for Yuuri to follow his lead. Yuuri did.

"My favorite color?" Yuuri asked.

"Blue~," Victor answered in a sing-song voice.

"Fine, what's my dog's name?" Yuuri asked next.

"His name _was_ Vicchan," Victor replied softly, both his sullen tone and his fading smile letting Yuuri know that he was in on the whole story.

"When you were younger you used to have irrational nightmares about skating, in which the ice would be opening up at random so that it could swallow you whole. That happened several times a week. You can't eat any dish that includes squid because you're very allergic to it, and it will have you throwing up for days. Your favorite aunt used to skate as well, but she sadly passed away because of a heart attack, back when you were only seven years old."

Yuuri blinked, stunned. "It sounds like we really were friends," he whispered.

Victor sighed, then hesitantly reached out his hand to Yuuri. It was another one of his offers, but his eyes were telling Yuuri that he was free to refuse.

Pushing his fears aside, his instincts taking over, Yuuri took it. They began skating pointless figures across the ice, their hands clasped together this time. It should be odd, holding hands with Victor Nikiforov, but it felt so right, and Yuuri had no desire to let go. Could it be that they had done this before? Was this another example of Yuuri's body remembering what his mind couldn't? Had the two of them been _that_ close?

"I'm not here to trick you, Yuuri. I'm here to help you. You're free to ask whatever you want, but please don't doubt that I know you. I would never lie about that, I _am_ your friend. I care about you a lot, and I'm on your side."

Victor's eyes held Yuuri's again, and they were nothing if not sincere.

"I'm sorry, it's not you... I just feel like- like I can't trust _anything_ anymore," Yuuri confessed without thinking, shyly lacing his fingers through Victor's as a peace offering. "Can I- Can I ask some more questions?"

Victor nodded, squeezing Yuuri's fingers in return.

"Are you the reason I can land that quadruple flip? Did you teach me how to do it? Is that why it didn't bother you, because you _wanted_ me to be able to do it?" Yuuri asked as they crossed the rink together.

"Oh yes, you learned from the very best!" Victor said, his tone teasing.

Yuuri rolled his eyes a little at his cockiness. "Did I ever land it in an actual competition without screwing it up though?"

Victor smiled wider than ever before, sounding proud when he replied. "Yes."

Unable to keep himself from glowing at that, Yuuri quickly searched for another question to ask.

"Why did you take a break from skating?" was what Yuuri came up with; he was curious to hear the answer to that one anyway.

Victor deliberated, reaching out with his free hand and taking Yuuri's other hand too, and then they were all but dancing across the ice together. And there it was again, that indistinct feeling of _'I know this'_.

"I no longer felt inspired. I wasn't motivated anymore, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to surprise anyone unless something drastically changed."

Yuuri nodded as he turned the tables and took the lead, pulling Victor along in a different direction. "Thank you for telling me... Will you return in time for the World Championships?"

"Yes," Victor said, following Yuuri's lead without protest, chasing Yuuri as Yuuri skated backwards like Victor had done before. "I've had a lot of time on my hands to come up with new programs this month, everything's already prepared for the Nationals."

Yuuri hummed, approving. Victor smiled -he'd been doing that a lot tonight-, and Yuuri once again failed to grasp how he could feel this comfortable around this living, breathing enigma that he'd admired for years.

"Any more questions?" Victor asked invitingly.

Still skating, Victor's hands warm in his own, Yuuri worked hard to conjure up some coherent ideas. He briefly entertained the thought of bringing up his mystery lover to Victor. Insane as it was, Victor seemed to know him well, and he knew a lot about Yuuri's life. If Yuuri was seeing someone, Victor had to know who it was, and why they were avoiding Yuuri.

But no, that would be far too embarrassing. Discussing possible lovers with his idol? Even if that idol was his friend now, Yuuri had no memory of that, and it would be too humiliating.

He asked an entirely different question instead. "The first thing I remembered after hitting my head was the choreography for one of your programs, I think it's called 'Stay Close To Me'. Why would I remember that one, even before any of my own programs?"

Slowing down, Victor let go of one of Yuuri's hands, but he was still holding the other hand tightly.

"Because it helped you in a time when you needed it most, I suppose," Victor told him, his expression tender as he speculatively eyed Yuuri. "And for what it's worth, you've always skated it better than I ever could."

Yuuri was speechless. They both halted somewhere near the side of the rink. It was surreal, how Victor Nikiforov treated him like an equal, possibly even as someone who could be better than him when it came to certain aspects of figure skating.

Victor released Yuuri's hand now, tilting his head to the side. "Shall we take a break, Yuuri?"

Feeling numb from an overload of information and sensations, Yuuri nodded willingly. Somehow, yet again Victor had guessed what he needed, exactly when he needed it.

They sat down on one of the benches at the side of the rink, sipping from their water bottles. Yuuri couldn't resist sneaking glances at Victor every once in a while, but they didn't talk. Now that the high was wearing off, Yuuri rubbed his eyes, realizing that he was getting tired. When he checked his watch it all made sense, because it was almost midnight. Yuuri attempted to suppress a yawn, and he heard Victor laugh quietly from beside him, catching him in the act.

"I think you should get some sleep. Go home, Yuuri," Victor hinted.

When Yuuri turned his head to properly look at him, Victor was already gazing back at him, his blue eyes calm, the look on his face so much more serene than when Yuuri had first looked him in the eye earlier that night.

Yuuri's focus soon shifted to Victor's hair, because no hair had any business looking that shiny and silky. Yuuri wanted to _touch_ it, brush it out of Victor's face to find out if it was as soft as Yuuri imagined it would be.

"Yuuri?" Victor tried again.

"S-Sorry," Yuuri apologized for zoning out. "But yes, we... We should go, it's late."

As they both started taking off their skates, Victor took Yuuri by surprise one more time with another one of his tempting suggestions.

"I'm going back to the hotel where I'm staying, but maybe we can do this again tomorrow, and you can ask more questions? You'll have some time to come up with new ones!"

Gazes meeting again, Yuuri stood no chance, because merely seeing Victor like that with those pleading blue eyes and that lopsided smile, it made him weak in the knees.

"Sure," Yuuri recklessly agreed like the star struck fool that he deep down still was. " _Yes_ , I would like that."

~~~

They both lingered as they said goodbye outside of the Ice Castle, raindrops falling on their cheeks and noses, the two of them standing close but not quite touching.

"I know this sounds silly, but you... You won't be gone tomorrow, right?" Yuuri whispered, feeling ashamed for even asking something so ridiculous, but putting his faith in Victor, hoping that he'd understand, that he'd understand all of it like he'd done from the start, and that he wouldn't think that Yuuri was being weird.

And then Victor's hand was cupping Yuuri's jaw, and somehow it didn't faze Yuuri at all that Victor Nikiforov, _the_ Victor Nikiforov, was touching him like that. When Yuuri's eyes searched Victor's face, the pained look in Victor's eyes made Yuuri's heart break a little. Yuuri didn't understand it, but he felt it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Yuuri. I swear it." Victor declared earnestly. "Your memories might have abandoned you, but I won't. I'll be here tomorrow."

Yuuri, still leaning into the touch of Victor's warm palm, only was sure of one thing. He wanted, no _needed_ , to be closer. He didn't have an explanation, he simply craved it.

"Victor..." he whispered, at which Victor smiled sweetly at him. "Were we the kind of friends that... I- I mean, did we ever _hug_?"

At that, Victor's smile grew wider, but despite that smile, his voice broke a bit when he answered Yuuri. "Yes, we... _All the time_."

Before Yuuri had time to even process that, Victor Nikiforov's strong arms found their way around Yuuri's waist, pulling him close as Yuuri hid his face against Victor's shoulder without thinking about it. It was warm, there in Victor's embrace. Victor smelled nice, and flowery, and vaguely familiar. Somehow, Yuuri fit into his arms perfectly, like that space was made for him.

Yuuri didn't want to make this awkward though, and he was the first one to pull away. Victor blinked at him, his eyes a pale blue in the moonlight.

"Thank you. For everything tonight," Yuuri mumbled, ending the silence.

"Oh no, don't say that! The pleasure was all mine, Yuuri."

Yuuri blushed at that, but tried to compose himself. "Tomorrow?" he asked timidly, needing confirmation one last time.

"Tomorrow," Victor repeated solemnly, taking Yuuri's right hand in his, touching the softness of his lips against the back of Yuuri's hand for a moment.

It was a promise. And Yuuri's stomach was drowning in butterflies. If upon meeting Victor there'd been a forlorn butterfly fluttering around here and there, it had grown into a solid army by the time the night had ended.

But whatever was going on here, Yuuri vowed to himself that he'd ignore said butterflies from now on, not wanting to ruin a potentially wonderful friendship, nor did he want to disappoint whomever he'd been seeing before the accident. They might have a perfectly valid reason for not being here, and Yuuri owed it to them to give them the benefit of the doubt, for the time being.

Not like he had deluded himself into thinking that someone like Victor Nikiforov could ever feel _that_ way about Yuuri in return, but regardless, it wouldn't be fair to be with someone if his heart and mind were with somebody else.

Yuuri sighed as Victor waved at him from over his shoulder one last time before disappearing into the night.

And oh, who was he trying to fool here?

He was already this close to falling, and this was going to hurt more than hitting his head on the ice, he was sure of it. Yet that didn't stop him from smiling broadly as he walked back home, cheeks flushed, not even the rain ruining his mood.

Tonight had been good, and he hadn't realized until now that the reason he felt lighter was because that hollow feeling in his chest was absent for the first time in three weeks. He didn't care why; he'd take it. For now, he'd simply take it.

~~~

Since he'd completely lost track of time, Yuuri expected to come home to a dark and quiet Yu-Topia. What he didn't expect to find, were Minako and Mari, still up, sitting at one of the tables with two cups and a few bottles of sake between them.

"Yuuuri!" Minako drawled when she noticed him. "Are you okay? I mean after seeing..." she trailed off.

Ah, so they already knew about Victor Nikiforov being at the Ice Castle tonight.

"News does travel fast here in Hasetsu," Yuuri huffed, directing a halfhearted glare at the two of them.

"Nah! It's because I'm psychic," a half-drunk Mari clarified helpfully, waving her arms in a way that she probably hoped looked mysterious.

"Hmm, yeah. Did that vision happen to come to you in the form of Yuuko sending a text?" he called out his sister.

The face she gave him clearly spelled the words _'well, shit, you've got me there'._

"But you're not... freaking out at all, then?" Minako asked slowly, putting down her empty cup, frowning up at him.

Yuuri shrugged. "Not really. I mean, at first I was shocked to see him, but it was all good once we started talking. He's polite. And considerate, and patient. He was very... sweet to me, the entire time we were together."

" _Sweet, considerate all the time..._ " Mari mockingly repeated in a slurry voice. "Statements about Victor Nikiforov that probably only ring true when your name is Katsuki Yuuri. My choice of words to describe him would've been _'blunt'_ or _'loud'_ , or _'savage'_ on a fruitful day."

He ignored her, along with whatever that was supposed to mean.

"So you're entirely cool with it?" Minako insisted one more time as she poured herself another drink.

"Sure," Yuuri told her without hesitation. "Of course he caught me off guard when he told me that we're good friends, but-"

"Friends?!" Mari and Minako exclaimed simultaneously, cutting in.

Minako was spitting out her drink, and Mari was theatrically rubbing her hand across her face.

Yuuri sighed, not feeling like doing this right now. "I'm tired, and you're both drunk and not making any sense. I need to sleep, we can talk about this tomorrow, alright?"

After quickly wishing his sister and his friend goodnight so that there wasn't any room for them to protest, Yuuri could clearly hear them both disbelievingly repeat the word 'friends' one more time before he closed the door behind him.

What even had that been about? He'd have to pull it out of one of them once they were sober and actually able to participate in a coherent conversation again, if it hadn't all been drunken ramblings to begin with.

Tomorrow's problem, he decided, his heavy eyelids and tired feet making the decision for him as he shuffled into his room and fell down onto the bed. He fell asleep with the smallest of smiles on his face, thinking about what tomorrow would bring.

~~~

In the morning, Mari was nowhere to be seen. She was probably dealing with one hell of a hangover, and it suited Yuuri just fine. He wasn't in much of a talking mood anyway, and he doubted that she even remembered anything from last night.

He helped his parents out by doing the tasks that his sister neglected to do today, by no means a sacrifice since he wouldn't be meeting up with Victor until after lunch anyway; Yuuko was teaching a beginners' class that morning, so the rink wouldn't be free until two.

When changing clothes after a shower and a quick lunch, Yuuri felt stupid for picking one of his nicer black long sleeved shirts to wear, along with some track pants that were actually free of holes. That didn't change the fact that he paid attention to those details nonetheless.

In his defense, every sane person would put some effort into not looking like a human disaster in front of Russian legend Victor Nikiforov, right? He kept telling himself that as he walked the familiar path that led him to the Ice Castle.

After putting on his skates in the locker room, Yuuri was pleasantly surprised when he saw that Victor was already on the ice, moving elegantly, almost as if flying as he skated across the rink.

For a minute, Yuuri was compelled to watch him without making a sound, but it didn't take long for Victor to notice him. He beamed at Yuuri, then skated up to him, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Yuuri, holding out his hand for Yuuri to take.

Yuuri did, more excited than anxious at this point.

"Hey you," Victor murmured as he guided Yuuri onto the ice. "Did you sleep well?"

Feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks, Yuuri nodded sheepishly. "Yes... Did you?"

Victor hummed happily and nodded as well. "I did! Better than I have in weeks."

Yuuri believed that because it showed, the circles under his eyes were less prominent today, his features less tense.

"That's good..." Yuuri replied, cursing himself for not coming up with something less lame.

Victor let go of Yuuri's hand then, casually skating backwards to the middle of the rink, gesturing with his index finger that Yuuri should follow him.

"Skate with me?" he asked, as if Yuuri could refuse him when he unleashed the power of those big blue eyes.

 Yuuri complied, following Victor until they were both standing at the center of the ice, face to face.

"Ask whatever you want," Victor prompted, his pale fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of Yuuri's face before he skated away, motioning for Yuuri to skate with him.

Shivering from that fleeting touch alone, it took Yuuri a moment to catch up, but he soon adjusted and followed Victor's lead like he had yesterday. They fell into the same pattern, circling around each other.

"Minako sensei took me to the beach and I remembered something. Saint Petersburg... But according to her I've never even been there, and I have no connections to Russia other than you, so I thought..." Yuuri let the question hang in the air.

Victor smiled wistfully, running his fingers through his bangs. "You probably remembered because I told you about it, it's where I live."

"Oh..." Yuuri mumbled, loosely skating another circle around Victor. "But I've never visited you there?"

Victor shook his head. "No, I wanted you to though. Or still want to, it would be nice to have someone close to me for a while, someone who understands me like you did... _Do_."

Yuuri's mind wandered, and to his surprise he vaguely _remembered_. Remembered Victor telling him about how lonely he'd been in that apartment back in Russia. Even though he'd never been alone altogether, had he? Not really...

A tight feeling in his chest reminded him that Victor wasn't the only one that his missing memories had taken from him. In a sharp flash, something came back to him, for real this time, _finally_.

Soft brown fur much like Vicchan's. Excited barks. Someone to keep Yuuri company on his midnight runs whenever his anxiety had kept him awake.

"Victor..." he said, his voice unsteady, his lower lip starting to tremble as he grabbed Victor's wrist to keep him in place. They both stopped skating, but Victor's eyes urged him to keep talking.

"Victor, I... _I miss Makkachin_."


	5. Chapter 5

_____

_Come up to meet you_  
_Tell you I'm sorry_  
_You don't know how lovely you are_  
_I had to find you_  
_Tell you I need you_  
_Tell you I set you apart_

**_ The Scientist, Coldplay _ **

**_____ **

 

Victor's arms were around Yuuri in a heartbeat, the spontaneous hug nearly crushing him.

"Yes! Yes, that's good, you remembered on your own!" Victor praised, and Yuuri was sure that he felt a kiss being pressed to the top of his head.

"Alright, keep thinking," Victor urged, eyes wide and expectant, releasing Yuuri from the hug, but still loosely resting both of his hands on Yuuri's shoulders. "You know Makkachin, you two spent a lot of time together. What more can you tell me about that?"

Yuuri tried to dig deeper, surely Victor would be able to distantly hear the gears turning in his head.

"I... Makkachin would sleep in my bed sometimes, when I got anxious. Makkachin was living with me because... Because it's _your_ dog, and _you_ were there too! You were staying at my family's resort," he brainstormed out loud, knowing that it was true as he said it.

"Yes! That's right, Yuuri! Keep going!" Victor encouraged, letting his hands slide down Yuuri's arms, taking both of Yuuri's hands in his. "Why was I there?"

"You..." And then Yuuri fell silent, suddenly stuck, blacking out, sadly shaking his head.

He was frustrated with himself for letting it slip away again, and he angrily cursed in Japanese.

"Hey, hey, no, don't worry about it," Victor immediately tried to soothe him, letting go of Yuuri's hands, careful fingers caressing the line of Yuuri's jaw instead. "Baby steps, this is already progress. Don't be upset with yourself, please. You can't force this."

Yuuri groaned, taking a deep breath, watchful blue eyes never leaving his face.

"Fine..." he uttered in defeat. "But I have new questions to ask now."

"And you're free to ask them," Victor assured him with a relieved smile. "Just don't be too hard on yourself, not over this."

Victor held out his hand, and by now, Yuuri knew what that meant. He took it, and mere seconds later, they were skating again.

"So you've stayed at Yu-Topia before, why aren't you staying with us now?" Yuuri questioned, confused as to why Victor would pick some random hotel if he was familiar with the Katsuki hot springs resort.

Victor's fingers tightened around Yuuri's, his soft pink lips forming a smile. They circled around each other on the ice in what now was a well-known dance to the both of them.

"To give you space, Yuuri. I didn't know how you were going to react to me being here, if you'd told me to leave, I would've gone back to Saint Petersburg right away."

Yuuri bit his lip, the mere thought making his heart throb painfully.

"Is that the reason you didn't bring Makkachin?"

"It is," Victor admitted with a nod, silvery hair falling into his face, at which he adorably wrinkled his nose. "For all I knew you were going to reject me, and I would've been gone within a day. My coach Yakov is taking care of Makkachin for now, she's in good hands."

"I'm glad..." was all Yuuri said; his head was so full, and in that moment he didn't know what else to say or ask.

They skated in silence for a while, and Victor didn't pressure him into talking, for which Yuuri was grateful. It was peaceful, skating hand in hand like that without having to think, the late afternoon sun streaming in through the windows, painting the ice orange and yellow. The peace reminded Yuuri of the many nights that he used to spend at the Ice Castle whenever he was feeling restless. It was almost the same. The same, yet less lonely and less dark, and therefore so much better.

When Yuuri was feeling calmer again, Victor seemed to sense it, and broke the silence.

"Can I show you something, Yuuri?"

Yuuri eyed him with interest as they were both sliding to a stop. "Okay... What is it?"

Victor grinned, leading him to the side of the rink with a hand on the small of Yuuri's back. "My free program, for my comeback! It still needs some work of course, but it's finished, mostly. Maybe you can watch me and tell me what you think? I don't have the music with me, but you can just use your imagination, da?"

Yuuri stared at  him, stunned. Victor Nikiforov wanted _Yuuri_ to watch his new program in its fragile early stage, so that he could tell Victor whether he liked it or not?

"You seriously want me to..." he sputtered, waving his hand between the two of them.

Victor's answering smile was blinding, not a trace of doubt on his face. "I do! You're a professional figure skater _and_ my biggest fan. Who better to ask whether or not I can still pull it off, don't you think?"

And cue the butterflies. Was Victor trying to give him a heart attack on purpose by choosing his words like that? By making Yuuri feel like his opinion on Victor’s skating mattered  _that_ much?

Nevertheless, Yuuri gave him the okay with a shaky nod, because when would he ever get another chance to watch Victor Nikiforov skate like this? Not on international television, not to try and surprise the judges or the audience at a competition with the main goal being to win that gold medal. No, he would be skating for Yuuri, and Yuuri alone. To share something, a little piece of himself, a part of him that wasn’t meant for the whole world to see. Not yet, at least.

"So watch me?" Victor asked, his tone light, but the weight behind his words wasn't lost on Yuuri, nor was the intensity in his eyes.

"Of course," Yuuri promised, swiftly touching his fingertips to Victor's cheek in a sudden wave of braveness.

At the reassurance, Victor skated away from him with a determined expression on his face, posing for the opening of his new program. And then he started skating.

There was no music, no costume, no sparkly decorations to dress it all up. But it didn't change a thing, because watching Victor Nikiforov skate like that, to Yuuri, it was absolutely mesmerizing. Even though Victor was older now, he was still as breathtaking as he had been when Yuuri had first seen him on that old TV at the Ice Castle because Yuuko had pointed him out. Someone like Victor didn't need dressing up or the right lighting; even like this it wasn't hard to tell that this came to him effortlessly. Victor Nikiforov was born to do this, and his new routine was on point. Yuuri was so glad that the true source of his inspiration hadn't decided to retire just yet, because Victor still _could_ pull it off, more beautifully than any other skaters out there.

Amazed as Yuuri was to witness this, there was a certain hint of sadness to the way in which Victor was skating, he noted. A bitter sweetness, something both lost and found. It was a bit harder to figure out the exact story without hearing the music, but Yuuri got the gist of it. It tugged at his heartstrings, Victor baring his soul like this.

He was speechless by the time that Victor stopped right in front of him with a questioning head tilt.

"Tell me if it was any good, don't spare me," Victor said, sounding utterly serious about it.

Yuuri forced himself to not laugh hysterically. Was Victor insane? Was he kidding?

"Are you kidding?" he blurted out the latter before he could stop himself. "That was... It was beautiful."

 _'You are beautiful'_ , were the words that he didn't dare to add.

"Oh god, you're crying, are you alright?" Victor asked with sudden urgency, eyes growing wider, sounding panicked.

Yuuri hadn't even realized it, how a few lone tears were slipping down his cheeks. Not until Victor reached out for him with both hands and carefully wiped those tears away with his thumbs.

"I- ah, sorry about that. I'm good, don't worry... I'm not crying because I'm sad, I'm crying because I'm happy," Yuuri quickly cleared up, blood rushing to his cheeks at the confession. "I'm happy to see you like this, that's all."

"So you think I'm still good?" Victor asked, his eyes fixed on Yuuri's, but a glint of satisfaction in them this time because the answer was obvious.

Blinking away the last of his tears, Yuuri laughed breathlessly at how ridiculous Victor was being. "Of course! But Victor... I've looked up to you my entire life, you could be skating around the rink while using a kitchen chair for support and I'd probably think that it was an interesting form of art."

Victor snorted -actually snorted- at that, and Yuuri laughed along, the atmosphere instantly lighter.

"I'll consider that for next season then," Victor hummed, grinning. "Always glad to take some good advice from my favorite muse."

Feeling himself go red in the face again, Yuuri shook his head in denial. Victor's muse? He couldn't possibly mean that.

"I always say what I mean," Victor replied bluntly but not unkindly, his fingers now cradling Yuuri's chin to keep him from looking away.

And oh, wonderful, he had said that out loud again, hadn't he? What was it with his lack of ability to keep his thoughts locked in the prison of his head whenever Victor Nikiforov was involved?

"I-" Yuuri gasped, his mind going offline altogether when Victor's thumb reverently traced Yuuri's lower lip.

Victor dipped his head, his too blue eyes now close enough for Yuuri to see the occasional miniscule fleck of emerald in them.

_KatsukiYuuri.exe has stopped working._

Helpful. Apparently all Yuuri could remember whenever his brain drew a blank these days, was a top ten that consisted of Phichit's favorite memes.

There wasn't nearly enough space between them, Yuuri's heart was hammering in his chest, and then... His stomach growled, loudly. Making so much noise that it was embarrassing, and Yuuri prayed for the ice to open up and swallow him whole like it often would in one of his nightmares.

"Oh god," he groaned.

The moment gone, Victor's fingers let go of his face, but he laughed quietly. "Ah, it sounds like my ice prince is hungry. I won't keep you any longer, it's almost dinner time anyway."

Yuuri didn't want to pay that particular endearment too much mind, for he might have unceremoniously fainted if he did. Victor Nikiforov sure had a way with words. And with touches, it would seem. Was it some kind of European thing? Was it a Victor thing? Without his memories, Yuuri had no way of telling which one it was.

There was, however, one thing he did know; rumbling stomach or not, he wasn't ready to let Victor go.

The feeling was foreign to Yuuri, because he often preferred to be on his own. Even when it came to the people that he was close to, socializing always took up a lot of his energy. Yuuri was a private person, someone who valued alone time, or so he remembered. After spending a few hours with someone, even if that someone was a friend or family, he'd crave the silence of solitude.

But now there was Victor, and although he'd only been here for barely two days, the two of them separating, it already felt... wrong.

"Victor?" he said, tentatively looking up at the man himself, knowing what he wanted to ask, but unsure _how_ to ask for it.

"Hmm?" Victor smiled at him and waited.

It was that uneven smile that made Yuuri melt, but then again, most of Victor's smiles had that effect on him.

"Come home with me? For dinner, I mean?" Yuuri proposed, his eyes nervously flickering up at Victor. "I... I'm sure you'll enjoy my mom's katsudon."

Luckily, it turned out that Victor didn't need much convincing.

"Oh of course, I'd love to!" he gushed. "I've missed your mother's pork cutlet bowls, they're my favorite!"

And wasn't that yet another surprise?

"Really? They are?" Yuuri asked, astounded.

Victor's eyes were probably bright enough to light up the entire town of Hasetsu when he softly replied "trust me, _they are"._

~~~

Suffering from amnesia didn't mean that Yuuri was also ignorant or blind all of a sudden; there was definitely something off about the way his mom greeted Victor when she saw that Yuuri had brought him home to have dinner with them.

On the rare occasions when Yuuri brought a friend with him, sure enough his family had always been warm and welcoming towards them, but this was... extreme.

He watched from across the room as his mother pulled Victor into an embrace that had an almost desperate edge to it, one of her hands petting Victor's silvery hair the same way she often used to do to Yuuri whenever she wanted to comfort him. She was acting like... Like a mom. Victor was holding onto her tightly as he rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, and they both sighed in apparent relief when they pulled away.

"Hey, skater boy, stop staring at your crush and help me set the table," Mari said dryly, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and poking Yuuri in the ribs.

Startled, Yuuri huffed a reply before tearing his eyes away from the scene, but not before noticing how Victor and his mom were having a hushed conversation during which both their gazes landed on Yuuri more than once.

Dinner was much the same; Yuuri being puzzled beyond all reason as he silently  watched his family interact with Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri's dad wasn't a tactile person by any means, but as soon as he came out of the kitchen and spotted Victor, he did pull Victor in for a firm one-armed hug. Then there was the casual manner in which Victor and Mari chattered over their bowls of food, the two of them bickering like a bunch of actual siblings at times.

Even if Victor had stayed at the resort as a guest for quite a while, they weren't treating Victor like they'd treat the average valued customer. On the contrary... They were treating Victor as someone who was an essential part of their family.

After dinner, when it was just Victor and Yuuri at the otherwise empty table, Yuuri's mind wrestled to put the pieces together. Victor must've noticed that Yuuri was restless, because he'd suggested that one glass of Sake never hurt anyone, and Yuuri had tentatively agreed. One glass had turned into two, and as it was, Yuuri was nowhere near drunk, but a pleasant buzz was running through his veins.

The same could be said for Victor, his cheeks pink, but his eyes still bright and focused. He was grinning at Yuuri from across the table, currently staring at Yuuri from underneath thick silvery lashes.

"Victor?"

"Hmm?"

"I..." Yuuri took a second to find the right words, the words that would subtly tell Victor that Yuuri wanted him to stay closer. "It's very considerate of you to give me space, but I really don't mind if you want to stay here, with us. If you're planning to stay in Hasetsu at all, I mean."

That earned him a limited edition smile from Victor, the honest, blinding kind that not even the cameras of hungry reporters would ever capture in its full glory.

"Of course I'm staying, Yuuri. This lovely town has a proper rink for me to practice, and I can call Yakov for advice whenever I need it," Victor said, like it wasn't as big of a deal as Yuuri suspected it had to be for him. "So I might take you up on that offer, I do miss the onsen, it does wonders for that ache in my lower back. As you can tell I'm an old man now, it would be helpful."

Somehow Yuuri felt like that was such a Victor-thing to say, and he shook his head in feigned exasperation as he eyed the lively twenty-eight year old Russian miracle in front of him whom, for the record, still looked better than most professional male models roaming planet earth.

"Please take your time to think about it then, _grandpa_ ," Yuuri mocked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone, the small dose of alcohol in his system making him braver. "But ehm... If it's the hot springs you miss, I guess it's not too late for a dip before you go back to the hotel?"

Victor visibly perked up at that, and Yuuri took it as a 'yes'.

And that was when he had to face the mistake that he'd just made; in his eagerness to make Victor stay just a little longer, it hadn't occurred to him that this initially innocent invitation meant literally getting naked. Together. The two of them. Yuuri's life flashed before his eyes in Buzzfeed article format.

**_'Top 10 Times Katsuki Yuuri Made a Poor Decision, and How He Could Have Prevented This By Thinking Before Speaking.'_ **

Oblivious to Yuuri's inner debate, Victor was already getting up from the floor, his smile radiant. It was too late to back out now.

Yuuri was doomed.

~~~

Methodically averting his eyes as they removed their towels and lowered themselves into the warm water, Yuuri inwardly congratulated himself on a job well done. It could've been worse, so much worse.

Victor sighed blissfully, closing his eyes while leaning back and stretching his legs. A wonderful opportunity for Yuuri to watch him without being caught, and Yuuri didn't waste it, committing the sight to memory as he sat down across from Victor.

Sharp cheekbones flushed, that tiny wrinkle between Victor's eyebrows, damp hair falling into his face... It was unfair for anyone to be that attractive.

Suddenly peeking at Yuuri through heavy eyelids, Victor smiled knowingly. _Oh no, busted._ No point in looking away now.

"Go ahead," Victor murmured as he brushed his bangs out of his face and _winked_ at Yuuri. "You're allowed to look, there's nothing you haven't seen before, I promise."

And oh wow, _that_ was truly embarrassing. What on God's green earth did Victor even mean by that? Did this guy possess a brain to mouth filter, like, at all? If Yuuri hadn't known any better, he would swear that Victor was _flirting_ with him?

Yuuri's first instinct was to protest, to deny that he'd been blatantly ogling Victor. But there was something in the way Victor was looking at Yuuri, too. He looked so at ease while his curious blue eyes examined Yuuri's face, like he didn't have a single care in the world, like he was simply happy to be there. And so Yuuri let it go, giving himself permission to study Victor's face more closely as well.

With only the moon illuminating him, Victor Nikiforov was almost inhumanly stunning. Yuuri's wandering gaze traveled to the long elegant line of his neck, to his broad shoulders. Every inch of skin appeared to be unblemished, smooth like delicate porcelain.

When Victor ran a hand through his hair again, Yuuri's eyes followed the movement, and their stares met once more.

"Why did you... Why did you cut it?" The question spilled out before Yuuri consciously decided to ask it.

"Hmm..." Victor tilted his head slowly, raising an eyebrow at Yuuri, one corner of his mouth lifting up into the ghost of a smile. "Did you like it better when it was long?"

"What? No! I was just curious!" Yuuri hastily declared. "I mean, I liked it long, but I like it now. Both is- You always look good," he added truthfully.

The heartwarming smile from Victor that it earned him made Yuuri's insides turn to jelly.

"Ah Yuuri, that's what I like to hear! But to answer your question, I guess there's..." Victor took a breath, then picked up the topic again, his tone more serious; he paused but he wasn't trying to dodge like Yuuri half expected him to. "There's only so much that gold medals and big titles can do... Around the time when I turned twenty-one, I wasn't so certain anymore. Not about my skating, not about myself, not about anything. Everyone had expectations, about the way I skated, about the way I looked... And then there was me, always trying to meet their demands, but at some point, living up to what others wanted me to be didn't make me feel satisfied anymore. Even when I managed to surprise everyone, I felt nothing."

After a short pause during which Yuuri didn't dare to make a peep, Victor continued.

"Plenty of people cared about Victor Nikiforov Russia's star athlete, but it felt like nobody cared about _just_ Victor. I was lonely, on the verge of depressed. As much as I loved skating, the ice wasn't always enough, and the thing I thought I loved most was slowly starting to kill me. I knew I had to make changes, _needed_ changes because I wasn't happy. Yet I had no clue what those changes should be, and I guess that's why I did it... It was a spur of the moment decision, I was desperate to feel different, to feel alright again, or to feel _anything_ at all."

Fighting to swallow around the lump in his throat, Yuuri deeply regretted asking. He hadn't meant to put Victor on the spot like that when it came to something that personal and, quite frankly, painful. He'd always looked up to Victor, had blindly assumed that Victor was the type of person who knew the answer to everything, unapologetically living the good life without any doubts or regrets.

"I'm sorry..." Yuuri whispered, his eyes prickling. "I shouldn't have asked."

To his surprise, Victor didn't look nearly as sad as Yuuri felt when he responded airily. "Don't worry about it, _zolotse_. It's in the past. Besides, you apologized last time, and I didn't mind then either. I don't share unless I _want_ to."

Those words didn't leave any room for interpretation, and Yuuri buried his face in both his hands, cursing himself. "Oh god, we've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

Victor chuckled. "We have. But it's fine, I know it's not your fault."

Dropping his hands and peeking up at Victor, Yuuri pulled himself together, unable to hold back one final question.

"So did it... Did it help? Cutting your hair?"

Victor frowned, shaking his head. "No. No, that didn't work, as I should've known. It took me a while, but eventually I got out of that dark place and found the will to motivate myself again, putting all of my heart and soul into becoming the very best. That gloomy feeling was always there from then on though. Less prominent, but still there, waiting in the wings. When I was twenty-seven, I could feel it creeping up on me again like it did when I was younger, it was this close to resurfacing, but then..."

Victor fell silent, a hint of melancholy in his slowly forming smile, as if he were remembering something pleasant.

"Then what?" Yuuri pressed without thinking, wanting to hear the whole story now that he'd gotten this far.

The answer Victor gave him was nothing that he'd been prepared for.

"Then _you_ stumbled into my life _._ "

~~~

Most tragedies heavily relied on unfortunate timing, probably.

Victor had barely dropped that bomb, and in barged Mari, shooing them out of the bathing area, complaining that it was getting late and that she wanted to clean up and make sure that everything was ready for tomorrow.

Poor decisions; that seemed to be a theme tonight. Yuuri sighed as he sat there, a bit tense, cross legged on the edge of his old creaky bed. Stretched out on his back across the other side of said bed was Victor Nikiforov, fast asleep, the green of the robe that he was wearing a nice contrast to his creamy skin, one shoulder bare. What little light came from the small lamp on Yuuri's desk, created the illusion of Victor's hair having warm hints of gold and honey to it.

There hadn't been a hidden agenda when Yuuri had invited Victor back to his room, not really. Friends could do that, right? And since Yuuri's posters were long gone, he hadn't seen the harm in keeping Victor with him for one more hour. All Yuuri had wanted was to talk some more, to finish their conversation, to find out how someone like him could have possibly been the one to make Victor's life brighter.

But frustrating as it was, once they'd gotten there, Yuuri's courage had vanished just like that. They'd talked, of course, small talk as they'd both made themselves comfortable on Yuuri's bed. However they hadn't touched the subject that Yuuri had been dying to talk about, and then somewhere along the way, Victor had started dozing off. And fallen asleep, looking ridiculously out of place here on top of Yuuri's ancient sheets, almost as if one of Yuuri's old posters had magically come to life to keep him company on a lonely night simply because he'd wished for it desperately enough.

All in all, Yuuri had never been more clueless; whatever relationship he'd had with Victor before hitting his head, if it was something like this, he had a hard time believing that he'd been even remotely interested in chasing anyone else. If Victor had at all noticed the vase with the blue roses in the corner, he hadn't mentioned it, but then again, without reading the card, the flowers just as well could've been a _'feel better soon'_ gesture from a friend.

Victor sighed in his sleep, and Yuuri's fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to touch him. To caress that face, looking so much younger like this without that occasional edge of poorly veiled worry tainting it. To run his fingers through Victor's hair, fanned out around his head on the pillow like a shiny silver halo. To trace Victor's left collarbone, now completely exposed.

Some battles couldn't be won, and this was one of those losing fights. His hand trembling, Yuuri reached for Victor, smoothing Victor's hair out of his face with the very tips of his fingers. Predictably, it was as silky as it looked, effortlessly gliding through Yuuri's fingers as he brushed it to the side. Yuuri shyly touched one of Victor's cheekbones, tracing a path down to this jaw line, and then even lower to the side of his neck, until he could feel Victor's pulse  flutter against his fingertips.

Yuuri knew that it was wrong, but he was drawn to Victor like a helpless moth being lured in by an exceptionally bright flame. He should let Victor be, instead of acting like a total creep, but that was easier said than done.

Was that why Yuuri had been seeing someone? To distract himself? To get over that devastating feeling of wanting someone who could never be his, not in the way Yuuri wanted him?

"Yuuri..."

Yuuri froze as Victor addressed him, and his eyes quickly went back up to Victor's face, his cheeks and the back of his neck going hot. _Oh no, he's awake?_ Victor was going to be so disgusted with him, wasn't he?

"Y-Yes?" Yuuri whispered remorsefully, clasping his hands together in shame.

But Victor said nothing. In fact, his eyes were closed still, his breathing even. And _oh_ , he hadn't woken up, and he hadn't been _talking_ to Yuuri. He was mumbling in his sleep, _dreaming_ about Yuuri.

With his own mind already half asleep, Yuuri could appreciate the irony in that, having vague flashbacks to the many dreams that he'd had about Victor lately. He laughed breathlessly, high on his exhaustion.

"Yeah... Me too," he muttered dryly at his idol, tone hushed. "You're- you're unreal, Victor Nikiforov. Everything about you is unreal. I wish I knew what to do with you, I just- How did I do it before I hit my head? How can anyone be around you and not become infatuated, huh? Or is that just me? I mean, you aren't perfect... You have no concept of personal space, for one thing. And sometimes... Sometimes you're blunt, and you can be such a... such a dork. Not to mention dramatic. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I _like_ it. It makes me feel less terrible about... About _me_. To know that you have shortcomings, too. To know that you're human, and even when you are too loud or talk too much, you don't apologize. For being you. And I _want_ you to be _you_... Because I _do_ care about _just_ Victor _._ "

Tiredly resting his head in both his hands after his unheard confession, Yuuri knew he had to make a decision, because it was getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. Was he going to wake Victor up and tell him to go back to his hotel? Should he leave his own room and find an empty guest room to sleep in? Or go and find some supplies so that he could sleep on the floor?

None of those options were all that appealing, and hey, wasn't this Yuuri's bed? And Yuuri's room?

During the past couple of weeks, Yuuri had learned to trust his instincts. Even without his memories, there was right, and there was wrong. He bit his lip, contemplating as he glanced down at Victor's sleeping form one more time. The bed was small, but there _was_ room.

Trying not to over think, Yuuri took off his glasses and put them on the night stand, hesitantly lowering himself onto the bed, carefully curling up against Victor's side. Seeing as Victor had snatched his pillow, he figured that Victor's chest would make a decent replacement pillow.

It wouldn't be sharing a bed, obviously. It would be a nap, just a nap. Just Yuuri resting his eyes for a bit despite a rather attractive Russian figure skating legend accidentally having fallen asleep on his lumpy mattress.

Yuuri fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Victor's heartbeat against his ear, irrationally clinging to the robe that Victor was wearing with both hands, as if Victor would disappear in a cloud of purple smoke if Yuuri didn't hold on.

 _Only a nap, nothing more,_ was Yuuri's final thought before sleep took over.


	6. Chapter 6

___

  
_Somebody found me here_  
_Somebody held my breath_  
_Somebody saved me from the world you left_  
_If you’re gonna cry my tears_  
_If you’re gonna hold my breath_  
_If you’re gonna let me see the sun you set_  
_Oh, I am lost and found_

**_ Lost and Found, Katie Herzig _ **

**_\---_ **

 

_"They're bright... So bright and shiny," Yuuri remarked as he looked down at their intertwined hands, resting there on top of the sheets between them._

_City lights were streaming in through the hotel's floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the rings on their fingers, sparkling gold. The bed was soft and warm, Victor was right beside him, and Yuuri couldn't recall ever feeling this much joy._

_"Not as bright as you will shine when skating tomorrow, my Yuuri," Victor murmured against his ear. "You'll always be the only gold I truly need."_

_It was more than enough to make Yuuri flustered, and he sputtered a protest._

_"You can't just- You can't just say things like that out loud, Victor."_

_Victor laughed unabashedly, and there was no point in Yuuri trying to avoid his smug gaze, because Victor was already letting go of Yuuri's hand and moving out from under the covers, crawling on top of him instead._

_"Hi," Victor said cheekily, grinning down at Yuuri before leaning in to nuzzle Yuuri's nose with his._

_Yuuri huffed as Victor all but straddled him on the bed, but relented, pushing Victor's bangs behind his ear so that he could properly see Victor's eyes as he stared right back up at him. "Hello."_

_Surrendering completely, Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor's neck with a happy sigh to pull him closer._

_"Something you need?" Victor asked with a raised eyebrow, teasing him._

_Yuuri groaned in response. "Please just stop talking and kiss me."_

_Victor didn't need to be told twice, and before long, soft, vanilla flavored lips were on Yuuri's, giving Yuuri what he craved most. They kissed until they were both breathless, Victor's hands exploring Yuuri's body while Yuuri's fingers tangled themselves in Victor's hair._

_While Yuuri attempted to catch his breath, Victor saw a chance and took it, his lips moving down to Yuuri's jaw and throat, leaving sloppy kisses everywhere. Yuuri couldn't have held back the moan that tumbled from his lips when Victor sucked at his pulse point, not even if his very life had depended on it._

_Of one thing he was sure; he wanted. Wanted more. Wanted Victor. Wanted everything._

_"Vitya..." he whimpered, his fingers digging into the nape of Victor's neck. "I need... I mean I- I want you."_

_Going still as a stone in Yuuri's arms, Victor paused, glancing up to shoot him a look, blue eyes hungry yet cautious._

_"Wait... Do you mean..." Victor trailed off, jaw going slack._

_Yuuri nodded hastily, afraid that he'd lose the nerve if he didn't get on with it. "Yes, I... We've waited long enough. Make me yours, please."_

_With by far the brightest smile that Yuuri had ever seen from him, Victor kissed his forehead, then his temple, then the very tip of his nose._

_"As you wish, my Yuuri," he murmured with another fleeting kiss to Yuuri's lips. "Whatever you want, it's all yours. I'm all yours."_

Yuuri was gradually pulled from his dream, feeling slightly offended that it had to end there. It had been such a good dream too; Victor Nikiforov had been about to make love to him. And it had felt so _real._

In fact, he could still smell Victor. And feel his warmth. Yuuri hummed in appreciation when he realized that tentative fingers were carding through his hair, blunt nails lightly massaging his scalp. _So good_. Yuuri buried his face in the solid yet warm pillow with the floral scent, sighing contentedly.

The pillow chuckled, and Yuuri's heart jumped at the sound.

"Are you awake, _solnyshko_?"

 _Oh shit, that voice._ Yeah, he sure was awake now. The night before came back to him in a rush; Victor falling asleep on his bed, Yuuri deciding to rest his eyes, only for a bit. Just a quick nap... The light that was creeping through the closed curtains told Yuuri enough to know that the sun was already rising.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" he blurted out as he lifted his head and tried to crawl out of the arms that were still holding him tight.

 Victor's curious eyes stared at him in disbelief, Victor's hold on him not loosening at all.

" _You're_ sorry? This is your room, Yuuri. If anything, I'm the one overstaying my welcome. I should be apologizing."

Yuuri blinked, too surprised to fight Victor's grasp any longer for the time being. Victor Nikiforov wasn't playing fair. He was flawless, even in the morning with his bed hair and heavy eyelids. On second thought, why would Yuuri even want to move out of this man's embrace?

But upon reminding himself of the dream he'd had, Yuuri knew exactly why; he was a detestable person. It was wrong to have those kind of thoughts about a friend, even more so while literally sharing a bed with said friend. He shifted in Victor's arms, helplessly resting his chin on Victor's shoulder, unable to look away from the guy despite his mortification.

"What's on your mind?" Victor asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eyes holding Yuuri's, soft but earnest.

Before Yuuri had a chance to answer what was probably a trick question, there was a loud bang on his door, and then it flew open.

"Yuuri! Mom wants you to help out with-"

Turning his head to the source of the noise, he saw Mari standing in the doorway, gaping at him, the rest of her sentence a lost cause. Credit where credit was due, she recovered rather quickly.

"Oh jeez, that didn't take long," she muttered to herself matter-of-factly.

Knowing very well what this looked like, Yuuri wrestled himself out of the cage of Victor's arms for real this time, sitting up and frantically shaking his head at her. "No no no! We weren't doing _that_ , it's not what it looks like!"

"Hmm," Mari hummed skeptically, a smirk on her face. "So you're telling me that just now you weren't in bed _cuddling_ with Victor Nikiforov?"

And then Victor just laughed. As did Mari. And Yuuri wanted to run and hide from both of them. What was this? Some sort of conspiracy?

"Well, never mind, I'll tell mom you're _busy_ ," Mari snickered before she left and closed the door behind her.

By now, Victor had gotten up as well, and they were sitting across from each other on the bed, silence hanging between them. Victor didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest by what happened, the only readable emotion on his face being amusement.

"I am really sorry about her," Yuuri apologized anyway.

"No need," Victor assured him, reaching out and grazing Yuuri cheek with the back of his hand, a gesture of comfort. "And you should go help your mom, I need to seriously train and work on my free program today anyway, or Yakov will have my head. He was fine with me going here, but if he thinks that I'm slacking off..."

Victor grimaced at the thought of his coach being unhappy with him, and Yuuri nodded in understanding.

"Yes, of course! Go train, I don't want you to get into trouble," Yuuri answered, meaning every word.

He wanted Victor to be at his best for his comeback. He wanted Victor to win gold at the world championships, to show everyone that he still had it in him.

"If you want, you can stop by later to watch me. Or to skate with me, if you like?" Victor suggested with a hopeful smile.

There was nothing in the world that Yuuri wanted more, and he breathed a quiet "sure".

"Good!" Victor exclaimed cheerfully, his eyes shining. "I'll see you later then."

Yuuri didn't question it when Victor casually pecked him on the cheek as if it was the normal thing to do here. _No need to panic,_ _you know this,_ his brain helpfully informed him.

Still, after Victor had left his room, Yuuri carefully touched the spot where Victor's lips had brushed against his skin. This once familiar space where he'd grown up felt quiet and empty without Victor's presence, already.

Yuuri's gaze flickered to the arrangement of blue roses on his desk. They were beginning to wither.

~~~

Yuuri whistled a tune as he helped his dad out in the kitchen, hummed under his breath while helping Mari with the laundry, and was still feeling light and happy by the time he took a break to have some lunch.

Gone was that lurking black hole that had threatened to consume him ever since the accident in Barcelona, and just like that, everything seemed to be so much less frightening. Fears from earlier were beginning to look more and more unfounded and ridiculous, and that's how Yuuri found himself sitting at his desk, stuffing his face with noodles while his free hand brought his phone back to life for the second time.

Looking at the list of missed calls, he saw a lot of unknown numbers, suspecting that they belonged to either nosy journalists or some of the head honchos on top of the ISU food chain, which Minako had assured him she'd already taken care of, for now.

He decided to take a peek at his text messages instead.

The most recent conversation came from Phichit. Yuuri scrolled over the latest messages, sent yesterday.

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _not sure if you're reading these yet, but oh well you'll catch up eventually so I'll just keep going_

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _anyway, this changed my life! LOOK AT THIS PICTURE OF A FROG WITH TWO SNAILS ON ITS HEAD!!_

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _[image]_

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _neat, right? :D seriously though, I miss you... please come back to the land of the living asap_

Yuuri snorted at the picture, quickly typing a reply to his friend to let him know that he was indeed back in 'the land of the living', and to ask if Phichit was doing okay as well. It was a relief, seeing his friend act as he normally would, not making things awkward or smothering him like his family had after he'd hit his head.

The rest of Yuuri's unread texts consisted of many get well soon wishes from skaters he vaguely knew, but must have gotten closer to since Sochi, considering they cared enough to text him to begin with.

 _Sara Cris. Chris GC. Mila B. Leo DLI. Guang hong. Otabek Alt. Minami K. Georgi P._ There even was a text from Celestino.

All of them politely  wished him the best, but one conversation stood out, a contact listed as _'Yurio!!!'_ The picture attached to the name was of a grumpy looking Yuri Plisetski. Yuuri frowned as he scrolled through the messages.

 **_Yurio!!!:_ ** _SRSLY KATSUDON?! I don't care if you're not reading this, just get your shit together already for everyone's sake!! victor is insufferable like this!_

 **_Yurio!!!:_ ** _he's moping all day every day it's driving us all nuts! he may be working on his new programs but he's got these sad disgusting puppy eyes and his pining is giving all of us a headache, even Mila_

 **_Yurio!!!:_ ** _so fix it before I personally fly to japan to slap you in the face until you remember victor's ugly old ass!_

 **_Yurio!!!:_ ** _and uh... feel better, I guess, whatever. mostly just remember that whiny russian drama queen of yours and marry him so that he can shut the hell up about it before it gives yakov a stroke! BYE_

Yuuri nearly choked on a mouthful of noodles. Victor?! _Marry?!_ Was that some kind of inside joke? Was Yuri Plisetski their friend as well and was this his idea of pulling a prank? They clearly knew each other well, given the tone of Yuri's texts, although Yuuri couldn't say that said texts sounded all that friendly.

Giving up on his food, Yuuri scrolled to some of the older messaging threads. He was shocked when he saw the name of one particular contact.

 _'_ _♥_ _Victor NikiforLOVE_ _♥_ _'_

The last message received was on a date that wasn't hard to remember; the day of the accident.

 **_♥_ ** **_Victor NikiforLOVE_ ** **_♥_ ** **_:_ ** _good morning, my sleeping beauty! didn't have the heart to wake you, but I went out to get us some coffee, be back soon! I love you <3_

Yuuri's stomach turned as his brain reluctantly tried to solve the riddle. The day of the exhibition. Meaning he'd been in Barcelona, staying at some hotel. And Victor had texted him that morning to let him know that Yuuri didn't need to worry because he'd be back soon with coffee.

So that meant... they'd slept together? Even if it was in the literal sense, they'd definitely shared a hotel room at the Grand Prix Final. Not to mention, Victor casually texted Yuuri that he _loved_ him?!

_I'll take 'things I never in my wildest dreams imagined to share with Russian skating legend Victor Nikiforov' for 500, Alex._

As Yuuri was about to go back to some of their old messages to try and find out if it was all one big joke, he was distracted by an incoming message from Phichit.

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _YUURI! welcome back! finally! I'm good, wbu though?_

Yuuri smiled despite feeling a bit befuddled, responding right away.

 **_Me:_ ** _thanks Phichit! feeling a lot better, a little confused, I guess_

 **_Phichit Chu:_ ** _hmm yeah, I can imagine :\ you're getting better though? Mari texted me that your head's no longer in pain, and that you've got your Vitya back! you guys will work it out, I'm sure! and don't forget about me when choosing your best man ;)_

Gasping for breath, Yuuri read the message until it was burned into his memory.

 _His_ Vitya? Had Victor and him been _that_ close? Close enough for the marriage thing to be an ongoing joke between all of their fellow skaters?! Oh god, that was so awkward. Had Yuuri's crush on his supposed friend been this obvious?

Obvious enough for even Victor himself to joke along and tell him he loved him, sending heart emojis for the hell of it? Would he really be cruel enough to play that card? The Victor that Yuuri had gotten to know didn't seem like the type to make fun of him like that. And in all fairness, neither would his best friend Phichit. They'd lived together for nearly four years, and Yuuri unconditionally trusted Phichit to not play on his weaknesses and insecurities like that.

He briefly considered calling Phichit, but ended up texting his friend to let him know that he'd message him later. Although Phichit wasn't usually the sugarcoating type, what Yuuri needed right now were blatant, uncensored answers from a neutral source.

Breathing in deeply, he put down the phone, starting up his laptop instead. Opening his internet browser, the familiar Google homepage welcomed him.

Biting his lip, he started typing.

_'Katsuki Yuuri, figure skater, Japan'_

Predictably, the first result was his own Wiki page. Yuuri clicked it. His eyes automatically darted to the sidebar that showed the basic info listed for him, even though he expected to find nothing out of the ordinary there. His full name and gender, place and date of birth, height, his family...

 ** _'Mother:_** _Katsuki, Hiroko_  
**Father:** Katsuki, Toshiya  
**Sister:** Katsuki, Mari  
**Fiance:** Victor Nikiforov'

Wait, what the-?!

 **_'Coached by:_ ** _Celestino Cialdini (former)  
                        Victor Nikiforov (current)'_

Yuuri stared at the screen, slack jawed. Then again, it was a Wiki page; everyone and their grandma would be able to edit it. Had the joke gone that far?

Quickly reading through his biography, he didn't see too much about his personal life. There was plenty of stuff about his skating though. The Sochi disaster was mentioned, go figure, but hey, so was the silver medal that he'd won in Barcelona. And the fact that he'd apparently broken Victor Nikiforov's world record there?!

Either someone had been having a grand old time abusing the 'edit' button, or the past year of Yuuri's life had resembled an actual fairy tale.

A fairytale with a sour ending, Yuuri was harshly corrected when he reached the bottom of the page. There was a link to a video on YouTube.

** 'Katsuki Yuuri, groundbreaking Exhibition Skate GPF Barcelona sadly ends in tragic accident' **

It took Yuuri ten whole minutes to click the thing. When he'd asked Minako about it a while ago, she'd said that it had been an unfortunate accident. And that plenty of blood had been involved. Having no desire to see himself like that, Yuuri had dropped the subject and never gone looking.

But right now he needed to know. No more hiding, every card on the table. Being in the dark all the time had gotten old. He could worry about people making fun of his friendship with Victor later; if he were to get some closure, watching the exhibition of doom might as well be the first step.

A shiver ran down Yuuri's spine upon hearing the opening music as he watched a version of himself standing at the middle of a dimly lit rink. _Stammi Vicino._ Stay close to me. Victor's program?! He'd used it for his exhibition for the whole world to see?!

Well, at least that explained why the deep blue costume that Yuuri was wearing looked almost identical to the one that Victor had been wearing for the original version of his free skate. And okay, with Victor being his friend and choreographer (and coach?), it wasn't all that shocking, probably?

Yuuri watched closely, noting how smoothly he moved across the ice, performing the first jump with practiced ease, none of the usual hesitation. _Wow._ So this was why he'd been that good at this program; he'd actually trained and perfected it with the goal to perform it in front of an audience.

The figure on screen suddenly paused at random, reaching out a hand. Yuuri squinted at his laptop, not understanding what was going on. That was until a second spotlight appeared, and Victor freaking Nikiforov skated towards him, firmly taking his hand with a smile sweet like honey.

The two of them started their dance. That dance that Yuuri somehow knew. Knew in his dreams. Knew while randomly skating with and talking to Victor at the Ice Castle. And apparently knew when performing for the world to see it, even though Yuuri didn't remember that part.

As he gazed at the screen with glassy eyes, two things couldn't be ignored. One: The costume in silver and purple that Victor was wearing, because Yuuri had seen that before, once upon a hallucination. Two: The matching rings made of gold that flashed in the spotlights, the rings that had also been there once upon that same hallucination.

"It wasn't just in my head..." Yuuri shakily whispered as he watched someone who couldn't possibly be him flawlessly dance across the ice with Victor Nikiforov as his partner.

The looks between them said it all. The way they touched, the way they smiled. They weren't friends, nor was that a dance between a coach and his favorite student.

Yuuri had never known romantic love himself; hadn't gone looking for it, and hadn't ever bothered with it period. Aside from his fleeting crush on Yuuko back when he was eleven years old, he had no experience, always too busy, throwing himself into both his skating and college. But he wasn't blind to it. He could recognize the trademark glances between two people in love. Whether those were shared between Yuuko and Takeshi, or between his parents, or between the two main characters on that Japanese soap opera that Mari loved to watch.

For all of the years that he'd watched him closely, this was a Victor Nikiforov that Yuuri had never seen before. This Victor, showing a smile that was genuine instead of artfully crafted for the sake of his fans and sponsors. This Victor, lifting Yuuri up with a care and gentleness that made Yuuri's heart swell.

He was almost surprised when the two figures separated, creating space between them, clearly intending to do a final jump in sync. His stomach twisted into knots, because Yuuri could guess which jump it would be.

Victor went first, his quadruple flip flawless, because what else could be expected of the great Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri could see it coming, instantly noticed that the him on screen was too distracted, watching what Victor was doing, maybe slightly nervous even for the first time during their dance. Knowing himself, he already knew that this was a jump that wouldn't end well.

As predicted, the Yuuri on screen miscalculated. The side of the rink was unforgiving, and Yuuri almost paused the video as he watched himself crash into the boards, only to stumble backwards and fall flat on the ice, hitting the back of his head with a heavy thud that was inaudible over the music and the shocked yelps of the audience.

Minako hadn't been exaggerating about the blood. Then again, head wounds tended to have a flare for the dramatic. Yuuri stared at his own lifeless body as the ice surrounding him was slowly painted crimson. The music stopped, people were screaming. And Victor Nikiforov, obviously terrified and with wide eyes, rushed over to him and was the first one to reach him. His desperate cry of _'NO!'_ as he dropped to his knees beside the Yuuri on screen, made Yuuri shiver to the bone.   

The video ended there. Yuuri blinked, gaping at the screen. After several deep breaths, the top comments for the video caught his eye.

 **_Katsuki_fan_92:_ ** _our poor Yuuri, he did so amazing this season & their exhibition was so beautiful but then this... I can't stop crying, I hope he'll be alright :(_

 **_skatergirljulia:_ ** _I feel so sorry for Yuuri but what gets me every time is the look of heartbreak on poor Victor Nikiforovs face! imagine finally finding the love of your life and having to see this happen to them?? </3_

 **_yurisangel-4life:_ ** _i'm team plisetski all the way but they didn't deserve this_

Yuuri didn't read any of the other comments. He didn't even dare to look into the other suggested videos that were related to this one, their titles saying it all.

**_ "Katsuki Yuuri skates Victor Nikiforov's 'Stay Close To Me', Ice Castle Hasetsu, Japan" _ **

**_ "Cup of China: Victor Nikiforov surprises his student Yuuri with a kiss on the ice!" _ **

His heart felt too empty and too full at the same time. There were too many things to process, too many things beyond his comprehension.

Nobody had been joking, nobody had been mocking him; Victor Nikiforov was _in love_ with him, and even though that sounded absolutely crazy, there was too much proof to even begin and deny it. But putting that aside, this new information brought something to Yuuri's attention that was way, _way_ worse than his own shock at Victor's affection towards him.

Because Victor had been terrified, heartbroken, had stayed by his side at all times and then when Yuuri had opened his eyes after hours and hours... He'd _yelled_ at Victor. Had told Victor to get the hell away from him. He had, without a doubt, hurt Victor so much that even thinking about it now made him feel sick. He'd hurt the one person he'd always admired and looked up to, and whom by some miracle, had even fallen _in love_ with him. He'd hurt him by forgetting.

On the desk not too far away, Yuuri's phone buzzed, making him jump in his chair. The first tears slipped out when he read the texts that he'd just received. He'd hurt Victor. Like that. And Victor was still by his side, and sending him messages. Messages like that.

 ** _♥_** ** _Victor NikiforLOVE_** ** _♥_** ** _:_** _Yuuriii! not sure if you're even using your phone again, but if you are, I'm still at the Ice Castle and I'd love to have some company right about now_ <3 _only if you want to!_

 ** _♥_** ** _Victor NikiforLOVE_** ** _♥_** ** _:_** _PS I know I said it's up to you, but when making a decision do keep in mind that I already miss you terribly!! plus I could really use some advice on my step sequence!_ (*_*)

~~~

From the very start, this had always seemed to be the safest position for the two of them to be in, the most natural one; with a thick wall of glass between them. A solid line, there to separate Yuuri's dreams from the reality that he lived in.

The way it had been when Yuuri had seen Victor skate for the first time, there on that outdated television at the local rink, his eyes wide as he had resisted the urge to press his nose against the glass, only because he couldn't possibly do that with Yuuko and Takeshi being in the room.

Victor was some kind of ethereal fantasy, something that Yuuri was allowed to look at, but wasn't worthy of touching. That's what he'd always thought, anyway. He sighed wistfully as he watched Victor dart across the rink, working on the routine that would ensure a stunning comeback for the Russian skater that Yuuri had idolized for so long.

Despite how strong he was, like this he looked eerily fragile. And Yuuri had hurt him, and not only the one time at the hospital... On top of that, Yuuri must have fooled him. Tricked him, in some way, because how else could someone like Victor have fallen in love with someone like Yuuri?

They'd been spending almost a year together, and Yuuri couldn't wrap his mind around how he'd done it before he'd hit his head. How had he managed to keep all of his ugly parts hidden from _the_ Victor Nikiforov for _that_ long? Long enough for Victor to let Yuuri put a ring on him?

Surely Victor was a decent human being, and Yuuri could easily picture him being a good friend and coach even with all of Yuuri's many flaws out there for him to see, but for Victor to fall _in love_ with him? How much had this unknown version of Yuuri before the fall kept from him? If Victor had fallen for him, there were too many sides of Yuuri that he simply couldn't have known about.

Yuuri's anxiety, for starters, and the ugly crying that was an inevitable part of his less than flattering panic attacks. Or how quick Yuuri was to gain weight, and how chubby he tended to get during the off season. Or the terrible creature that he became whenever he consumed too much alcohol; just like his father, it wasn't a sight to behold.

Had he carefully played a part ever since Victor came into his life? And how had he ever been able to not crumble under the pressure of having to be good enough to be the partner of someone _that_ beautiful and brilliant? How had he lived up to those expectations, for months? Yuuri's head was spinning, his stomach turning. This couldn't be right.

Even now, merely watching Victor from the safe haven that was Yuuko's office, Yuuri felt like he was intruding. He felt like a fraud, a fanboy gone rogue who'd somehow conned living legend Victor Nikiforov into liking him.

Did it matter that the real Victor was not only gorgeous but also sweet, and caring, and easy to talk to? It wasn't like Yuuri wouldn't have fallen for him if they'd met as random strangers, that much he could tell after spending time with him. But did that even count if Yuuri's intentions had been less than noble? Had they been? Or had Yuuri been acting like something he wasn't because he'd been too anxious to show Victor what he truly was, namely a giant mess that consisted of nothing but tears and self doubt.

Until now, he hadn't even realized how badly he was shaking. Too many wrongs that Yuuri couldn't make right, and they'd crashed down on him all at once.

He'd caused Victor pain both by telling him to leave and not remembering him, he'd probably lured him into a relationship in the first place by pretending to be something he wasn't, and if all of that wasn't cruel enough already, Victor was waiting for him _still_.

Waiting for Yuuri to meet him where he was. Patiently staying by his side, hoping for something that Yuuri would never be able to give him.

Because Yuuri no longer cared how he'd done it, how he'd portrayed that version of him that was more confident, more daring, more _interesting_. It couldn't have been true, and it wasn't fair, even if the goal had been to impress his idol.

With that thought dominating his foggy mind, Yuuri did what he did best. The only thing he knew how to do whenever he was overwhelmed. He ran.

~~~

There was something about the sea. The sound of the crashing water, salty like Yuuri's tears, offered a strange type of comfort. As did the rain. Yuuri didn't know how long he'd been here, hours probably, but he didn't care either, because nobody was here to judge him.

He was soaked, shivering, but ironically too numb for the cold to particularly bother him. He'd been here before, plenty of times. He'd even been at this exact spot not too long ago, with Minako.

_'I'm not crying, it's just raining on my face!'_

The thought came to him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Phichit's, and Yuuri snorted despite himself. But although the rain was a perfect tool to cover up his hysterical sobbing, no meme could fix this.

How had he managed to mess up this much? Had he done all of that with a clear conscience? Victor Nikiforov might've been a superstar, but he was also a person, and Yuuri had never considered himself to be that selfish towards someone else. As selfish as to take Victor away from skating, which surely had to be what the guy loved doing most in life. Even though Victor had admitted that he'd been lonely, how could wanting to make friends be enough to give up a career like that? Least of all for someone as mediocre and plain as Yuuri. That was something he hadn't even considered before, and he felt worse again, preparing for another round of ugly tears.

He was a despicable human being. And he was going to break up with Victor Nikiforov. He _had_ to break up with Victor Nikiforov, even though all he wanted was to stay close to him. Loving someone meant being honest with them, and there was no way that he could've been, was there?

And so he cried, and cried, and cried some more, until he was sure that he'd become one with the sea; a giant icy pool, full of salt and regret.

"Yuuri! Oh god, Yuuri!"

It took Yuuri a moment to snap out of his trance and to acknowledge the fact that someone was calling his name. He blinked, surprised to find that it was starting to get dark. The rain was nothing but a slight drizzle now, and he'd ran all out of tears, apparently.

"Yuuri, hey..."

And just like that Victor Nikiforov was kneeling beside him in the sand, his face etched with worry. He didn't seem to care that his designer jeans were getting all sandy and gross.

Yuuri whimpered, and for whatever reason, Victor sighed sadly.

"Ah..." he murmured, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the ocean breeze. "It's been a while since you've had one this bad... It always breaks my heart to see you like this, knowing I can't do anything about it, not really."

Victor's eyes, so blue, so close, were a calming presence, oddly so, seeing as Victor was what had him worried like this to begin with. _It's been a while..._ That sounded like Victor had experienced this before, and not just once. Like he knew what he was dealing with.

"Can I touch you?" Victor asked quietly, not demanding, simply verifying.

 _Ah_ , he without a doubt knew what he was dealing with. So Yuuri hadn't tried to keep it from him? Victor even knew how to handle in a situation where Yuuri got like this?

Yuuri was trembling again, but it was partly from relief this time. As it turned out, he at least hadn't completely manipulated the man he admired.

It was enough to make him blurt out a rushed "y-yes."

Victor said nothing, but offered him an encouraging smile as he carefully moved closer. And then one of his arms was supporting Yuuri's back, while the other snaked below Yuuri's knees, about to free him from the muddy sand that he'd been sitting on for the past three hours or so.

"Alright, up we go," Victor uttered casually. "You're going to get sick if you stay here any longer, we need to get you into some dry clothes."

Not even getting a chance to protest, Yuuri was lifted into the air, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around Victor's neck to support himself. Being in Victor's arms made him feel safe, even in the state that he was currently in. Somewhat like landing a perfect quad flip, but without the pressure of being in a competition to ruin the experience while building up to it.

All he knew for sure was that Victor would take care of him, whether he'd flub the jump or nail it.

Yuuri didn't say a word, only held on, until they reached a sidewalk and Victor mumbled something about calling a taxi to get Yuuri back to Yu-Topia.

The last thing he needed right now was for his family to suffocate him with their well-meant worrying yet again, and he squeezed Victor's shoulder to get the man's attention.

"Wait, Victor... Can we go to where you're staying instead, only for a bit, please?"


	7. Chapter 7

**_\---_ **

_'But I'm still wearing your ring,_  
_And I'm still telling you my thoughts though you're not listening,_  
_I'm still holding on'_

** Holes In My Jacket, Kate Walsh **

**\---**

It hadn't been difficult to persuade Victor. On the contrary; he'd instantly mumbled a silent 'okay' at the suggestion, and from there on Yuuri didn't remember much other than Victor helping him in and out of a car, and leading him into one of the few better hotels that Hasetsu had to offer.

"There we are," Victor said, his tone light as he lead Yuuri into a hotel suite on the top floor.

Yuuri gaped, taking in his surroundings. The room was spacious, tastefully decorated, and oh wow, the view... Large windows, and a door leading to a balcony was slightly opened, letting in the salty air of the sea. He could see the ocean from a whole different angle here, and there was something undeniably mesmerizing about it. Or perhaps it was simply because Victor was the one taking him here.

Turning away from the scenery, Yuuri found that Victor was still standing in the middle of the room, seeming tense, clearly waiting for Yuuri to say or do something first.

"T-thank you for this," Yuuri breathed, slowly blinking at Victor.

Victor dismissively held up a hand at that, fondly shaking his head. "Ah, no need to thank me, I told you I'm here for you. Are you feeling a little better?"

The fact that Victor wasn't pushing him to elaborate as to what had triggered him, was a major relief. Yuuri didn't feel like talking about what he'd found out just yet, and he was grateful that Victor wasn't forcing him to.

Cautiously taking a few steps to get closer to Victor, Yuuri nodded. "I think so, yes."

Victor hummed, approving, and Yuuri watched how his pretty lips lifted up into what could easily become a smile, blue eyes more focused as the edge of worry slipped away.

Like this, Victor was so real. And heartbreakingly beautiful. And so much more than what Yuuri ever could've dreamed up back when he'd worshipped Victor from afar.

There was hardly any distance between them now, and Yuuri instinctively reached out for him, until he paused and caught himself in the middle of his mistake, right as his fingertips were about to graze Victor's pale cheek.

"Sorry- a-about that," he stuttered. "I should've asked first, I mean... Can I _touch_ _you?"_

Victor's shoulders gradually relaxed, and he for some reason looked relieved.

"Oh solnyshko... You don't ever have to ask for permission to touch me, don't worry about it," he replied, chuckling quietly.

And yes, technically speaking Yuuri knew, now. Given their history, surely he was allowed to touch Victor. Even kiss him, whenever he was feeling like it. And wasn't that the most bizarre yet remarkable thing? Experimentally, Yuuri brushed the back of his unsteady fingers against Victor's cheekbone, like he'd done the other night when Victor hadn't been awake.

Victor leaned into his touch without hesitation, smiling at Yuuri to encourage him, at which Yuuri flipped his wrist so that his palm could properly  cradle Victor's jaw. Victor's skin was so soft and smooth, downright exquisite, like the rest of him.

His hand was quivering again, but this time, Yuuri realized that nerves weren't to blame. His wet clothes were still sticking to him like a second skin, resulting in a full body shudder not much later.

Victor disapprovingly clicked his tongue, abruptly ending the moment of shared intimacy.

"We can do more of that later, if you feel like it," he promised, a teasing lilt to his voice now that Yuuri was doing better. "Shower first, I'll get you some dry clothes to wear."

Yuuri obeyed, letting himself be steered towards the bathroom as Victor handed him a dry shirt and some sweatpants.

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere," Victor assured him with a wink. "I'll text your sister so that your family will know that you're safe."

After mumbling a genuine _'thank you'_ , Yuuri closed the door behind him.

He did take his time, like Victor had suggested. The warm water was a blessing, warming him up while simultaneously easing the ache in his sore muscles.

But despite the relaxing environment, Yuuri's thoughts were spinning out of control still. They kept flickering back and forth, going from 'what if I _can_ do this after all?' to 'what if I _can't_ do this after all?'

It was one matter to like Victor Nikiforov as a fan, from a safe distance. An entirely different matter to be his lover in real life and having to satisfy him. No, not even that, to even be _worthy_ of him. Because hadn't Yuuri been the most terrible fiance these past couple of weeks? He'd mostly hurt Victor, albeit unintended, repeatedly asking for Victor's comfort even though Victor must have been the one heartbroken inside.

Yuuri tiredly forced his mind to shut up as he turned off the warm water, reaching for a towel. He got dressed in clothes that were a tad too big on him, but comfortable all the same.

When he tiptoed back into the room, he saw that Victor was already softly snoring on the left side of the bed. Yuuri couldn't blame him; they'd both had a long week, and Victor had kept his promise to not go anywhere. Not wanting to wake him up, Yuuri turned off the lights, carefully sliding under the covers on the other side. Sharing a bed was hardly anything new, even though Yuuri only remembered that one time last night. At least compared to Yuuri's tiny bed, there was plenty of space here.

He shifted onto his side, making sure that his back was towards Victor, so that he wouldn't be tempted to stare or touch this time. Luckily, he was tired enough to slip into a restless sleep without too much effort.

~~~

_It was still dark when Yuuri woke up. He couldn't have slept for more than a few hours. Grumbling, he rubbed his eyes, slowly sitting up but nearly jumping up from the hotel bed when he noticed a figure casually sitting cross-legged on the edge of it, somewhere near Yuuri's feet._

_Yuuri blindly reached for his glasses on the nightstand as he heard a melodic laugh, coming from that same direction._

_He suppressed a screech when the light of the moon streaming in through the windows provided him with just enough light to see who it was._

_"Boo!"_

_A highly amused Victor Nikiforov that couldn't be much older than seventeen observed him with a certain fascination, resting his chin in both his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His nails were painted -something purple and glittery-, and long strands of silvery hair were cascading down his back and over his shoulders, forming a curtain around his grinning face. Startled, Yuuri tried to crawl back, only to immediately be blocked by the headboard._

_"Aaah, Yuuri~! I thought we were past this, aren't we? You being scared to be close to me?" young Victor chided cheerfully, his accent thick, like Yuuri remembered it being from his early interviews._

_"You-you startled me," Yuuri shot back defensively. "You can't just sneak up on people like that! Or watch them sleep, for that matter. It's... creepy."_

_Victor shrugged, daringly tilting his head, as if to call bullshit. "You watch me sleep sometimes. Older me, anyway."_

_Yuuri groaned as his cheeks flushed, his mind already feverishly searching for a way to change the subject._

_"Why are you... why are you here, Victor?"_

_Another shrug, and a loud huff as young Victor brushed his hair out of his face, then lazily toyed with one of the longer strands. "Because I'm bored, obviously. And lonely, I needed some company."_

_Yuuri considered that. "Why aren't you hanging out with your friends then ?"_

_Victor laughed without humor. "I guess that this question would be a lot less offensive if I had any."_

_Finding that hard to believe, Yuuri frowned at him, not hiding his skepticism. "You? No friends? I think plenty of teenagers are dying to be your friend."_

_There were no signs of annoyance or anger when Victor shook his head in defeat, he merely pouted, his blue eyes sad. "No time to make any. Yakov says that I can have a social life once I retire, not now, which sounds like an awfully long time to me. I used to be friends with some of the other skaters though, but they didn't like me as much anymore when I started winning all the medals all the time."_

_"Oh..." was Yuuri's not-so-intelligent comeback._

_Yuuri's gaze dropped to where Victor's slender fingers were still absently playing with a silky strand of platinum colored hair. Victor bit his lower lip when their eyes met again._

_"You like my hair, don't you, Yuuri? You can braid it, if you want!" he offered, his face suddenly clearing up, his lips twitching into a hopeful smile. "It'll be like a slumber party! I've always wanted to have one of those, but it's a bit of a problem when you don't have friends."_

_In no universe would Yuuri be able to resists those eyes, or that pleading face._

_"Sure," he muttered way too easily. "Turn around then."_

_Victor did so in a flash, now sitting with his back to Yuuri, giving Yuuri easy access. Yuuri was glad that Yuuko had insisted on teaching him how to braid her hair when they were younger, because it came in handy now._

_As Yuuri went to work, combing his fingers through Victor's locks and parting them, Victor hummed happily. They were both silent while Yuuri was braiding, the faint smell of magnolia from Victor's shampoo hanging in the air._

_"Hmm, this is nice," Victor commented after a while, leaning more into Yuuri's touch._

_"Almost done," Yuuri updated him, not knowing what else to say._

_At that declaration, Victor handed him a rubber band out of nowhere._

_"There you go," Yuuri softly told him not much later when he was finished._

_Victor glanced at Yuuri over his shoulder, shooting him another one of those blinding smiles. "Thank you, Yuuri~! How do I look?"_

_Yuuri held back a laugh, playfully tugging at Victor's hair. "Like you're about to go to a cool party, like most teenagers do. Or... or on a date."_

_Young Victor wrinkled his nose, the same way Yuuri saw his Victor do whenever he was thinking about something unpleasant._

_"I went on a date once," Victor confessed bleakly as he turned around to face Yuuri again, yet strategically averting his eyes. "The guy hated dogs, and told me that my figure skating was a waste of time. He ordered pineapple on his pizza, can you believe it? Turns out we weren't a great match, when he dropped me off at home he even admitted that I wasn't his type at all, and that he'd only asked me out because he thought I was pretty."_

_Yuuri's heart might have shattered, right there on the spot. There was a brief silence, and then he gently reached out to cup Victor's face._

_"Well that makes him a jerk then, there's so much more than that, Vitya. You're beautiful here, too," Yuuri tried to console him, lightly resting the palm of his free hand on Victor's chest, right over his heart. "One day, someone will come along and see you the way you deserve to be seen."_

_Victor's eyes darted up at Yuuri, and his watery smile was worth every sappy word that had fallen from Yuuri's mouth just now._

_"Actually, I kind of know that... I'll have you! But, Yuuri?" he mumbled after another moment of silence. "You do also think that I'm pretty on the outside, da?"_

_Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous question, Yuuri honestly answered him anyway. "Yes. The prettiest."_

_For his effort, Yuuri was pulled into a crushing embrace. However when Victor pulled out of the hug, he placed a hand on Yuuri's cheek to force him to look at the other side of the king-sized bed for the first time since Yuuri had opened his eyes. Until now, Yuuri hadn't paid the rest of the room any mind whatsoever; dreams were funny that way._

_He inhaled sharply when he spotted a sleeping Victor Nikiforov, his Victor Nikiforov, on the other side of the bed. He was restlessly tossing onto his other side, his bangs falling into his face in the process. Yuuri lifted a shaky hand, brushing them away in a motion all too familiar to him._

_"He's afraid," young Victor whispered as they both watched the sleeping figure beside them. "He finally got what he wanted only to have it taken away from him in the blink of an eye, and he's so scared to be alone again. Promise me that you'll take care of him, please, Yuuri."_

_Yuuri swallowed thickly as he brushed his fingers along his Victor's forehead, but his tone was fierce and determined when he replied._

_"Of course.... I promise."_

**~~~**

Waking up with a gasp, Yuuri's fingers firmly grasped the pillow as he squinted at the unfamiliar hotel room wall, trying to ground himself. After taking a few breaths to calm his pounding heart, he gathered the courage to slowly turn onto his other side, for a moment fearing that he might still be dreaming.

But even in the dark, he could see that Victor was very much beside him, and hadn't bothered to turn away from him at all. In fact, he was facing Yuuri's side of the bed, his eyes closed, but eyelids fluttering restlessly. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his features tense, even in his sleep. And then he _whimpered_ helplessly, as if in pain, and because of that one simple noise, Yuuri felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Victor was obviously having a nightmare, and Yuuri didn't like that idea one bit.

_'Promise me that you'll take care of him, please, Yuuri.'_

Making a decision without giving it any real thought, Yuuri stretched his arm, cautiously rubbing Victor's shoulder with his hand, his fingertips sliding along the soft grey fabric of his shirt.

"Victor, hey..." he murmured, gently shaking him awake.

Anxious blue eyes flew wide open, and Victor made a noise like he was choking, then breathed in and blinked at Yuuri in shock.

"Yuuri?" he asked, sounding befuddled, a hint of panic in his voice as he uttered Yuuri's name. "Yuuri, is something wrong? Are you alright?"

"What?" Yuuri took a moment to process that question, then quickly shook his head. "No! Nothing's wrong, I'm fine."

A sigh of relief from Victor, and then a curious head tilt as he stretched to turn on the lamp on his nightstand. "Was there something you needed then?"

Again, Yuuri shook his head, but was unable to produce any words to let Victor know what was on his mind.

Trying to find an alternative, Yuuri nervously bit his lip, boldly opening his arms in invitation, hoping that Victor would get the hint. Victor looked surprised at first, but was rather quick to comply as he scooted closer to Yuuri, his eyes wide with wonder as he tentatively rested his head against Yuuri's shoulder.  Yuuri carefully wrapped his arms around him, holding Victor close and inhaling deeply as he rested his chin on top of Victor's head.

For a while, neither of them spoke, the two of them silently listening to each other's breathing, Yuuri allowing himself to get used to the feeling of Victor in his arms.

Admittedly, Yuuri rarely felt the urge to talk about personal things unless it was absolutely necessary. Yet tonight, he felt like making an exception, and he spoke up first, words muffled a bit by Victor's hair.

"I remember your last competition in the Junior Division..." Yuuri said conversationally.

Victor hummed to let him know that he was listening, but didn't interrupt.

"You got the gold, no surprise there... Afterwards there was a press conference, and you'd been so absolutely amazing... I think even Yakov smiled when talking to the reporters on your behalf, I don't remember ever seeing him smile in public outside of that."

A quiet chuckle from Victor at the mention of Yakov's trademark sour attitude.

"And then there was you, and you just... They'd given you some kind of sweets, chocolates, I think. And you weren't paying attention to anything but those, chewing without a care in the world while staring at the rest of the bowl like it was the only thing in the room that mattered, and I remember thinking that you were... you were so adorable."

"Oh yes, I remember that! They were so good though," Victor mused as he lightly nuzzled Yuuri's shoulder, and Yuuri could swear that his pale cheeks turned pink at the fleeting compliment that Yuuri accidentally let slip.

"Yeah, I bet they were, with the way you were making eyes at them," Yuuri dared to tease a bit, lightly running a hand through Victor's hair, then lingering at the nape of Victor's neck. "Anyway I... I'd always known that your skating was extraordinary, and everyone with a pair of functioning eyes could see that you were exceptionally pretty but... That was the first time when I caught myself thinking _'I want to know him'_. From there on I started to read interviews about you that were more personal. Your likes, your dislikes, what music and movies you preferred, or your favorite food. I was curious about Victor, not the ice skater, but the boy who liked chocolates and poodles. The boy who liked to paint his nails in silly colors."

Even without looking down, Yuuri could feel Victor smiling against his shoulder.

"Do tell what you found out about me, Yuuri," Victor challenged in a playful tone.

Yuuri huffed, ruffling Victor's hair on purpose before slowly smoothing it out again.

"Plenty of interesting stuff," he replied, keeping it vague. "When you were nineteen though, the rumors started going around... About you preferring men, not women. At some point you were being interviewed for some teen magazine, and they actually had the guts to ask you whether or not it was true. And you told them... _'I don't care who I end up marrying, as long as they like dogs, don't mind my figure skating and-'_ "

"... don't put pineapple on their pizza," Victor cut in to finish the quote, then snorted quietly.

Yuuri laughed too, shaking his head in disbelief.

"In my defense, I was only nineteen," Victor grumbled, pouting a bit when Yuuri glanced down at him.

"Oh, I don't know, I wouldn't say it was that bad..." Yuuri started nonchalantly. "Actually, it was after reading that interview that I told my mother _'mom, when I'm older, I'm going to marry Victor Nikiforov'._ I _was_ meeting all of your standards, you know."

For a second there, Yuuri was afraid that he'd crossed a line, seeing as he hadn't told Victor yet that he knew about them. That he knew what they were to each other, even though he didn't quite remember.

But whether Victor knew about Yuuri knowing or not, he didn't seem to mind. His sleepy blue eyes were shining when he blinked up at Yuuri. He opened his mouth to say something, but a yawn came out instead.

Yuuri mumbled an apology, because he'd been the one to wake Victor up after all.

"Talk more tomorrow?" Yuuri suggested in a whisper.

Victor nodded against his shoulder, his eyes closing, and Yuuri smiled. He was about to follow Victor's example and close his own eyes, when Victor sleepily muttered his name again.

"Yuuri?"

"Yeah?"

"You said I-" a sleepy sigh "was pretty when I was.... younger." A yawn. "Do you... still think I'm pretty?"

As out of the blue as it might have seemed, Yuuri understood, now more than ever. Even with pieces of the puzzle still missing, he was sure that this was most definitely not the first time that Victor had looked to Yuuri for reassurance, the dream that he'd had earlier telling him as much; memories trying to force their way back into Yuuri's conscious mind.

Victor Nikiforov was only human. Sometimes he was insecure and uncertain, just like Yuuri. Sometimes he needed some advice on his step sequences. Sometimes he needed someone to hold him, or a friend to talk to. Someone to let him know that he wasn't alone. And sometimes, even someone like him needed somebody to reassure him about his looks.

Yuuri swallowed to clear his throat, and answered honestly once more just as Victor's eyes slipped closed one final time.

"Yes. _The prettiest_."

**~~~**

Face-timing Phichit was the main thought on Yuuri's mind when he was the one waking up first the next morning. Knowing what he knew now, he desperately needed a no-nonsense friend to rant to.

Although Victor had told him that he was usually an early riser, Yuuri suspected that Victor's month had been both physically and emotionally exhausting after what they'd been through, and he decided to let the man sleep.

He considered going downstairs to the lobby or going outside altogether to make the call, but the last thing he wanted to do after all this was to leave Victor alone; he didn't want Victor to wake up thinking that Yuuri had walked out on him again.

Sliding open the glass door that led to the balcony, Yuuri slipped outside before silently closing it behind him.

The sky was clear today and the sun was already rising steadily, bathing the beach and the waves below in a glow of gold and yellow. Leaning against the railing, Yuuri selected Phichit's name and made the call.

_"Yuuri, hey! It's so good to see you!"_

Yuuri breathed in relief when Phichit's smiling face appeared on his screen almost immediately.

"Hey, Phichit! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

_"Nah, not at all. Rest day today, which I really deserve if I do say so myself. Ciao Ciao acted like a total slave driver this week!"_

Chuckling at his friend's whiny tone, Yuuri's eyes followed the hamster that was currently busy trying to unsuccessfully crawl from Phichit's shoulder to the very top of his head. Phichit was in his room, still in his pajamas, his hair a mess. Rest day, indeed. Yuuri fondly remembered days like these; a much needed opportunity for his feet to heal, back when he was living in Detroit.

"Well, nationals are coming up, so he's probably not entirely wrong," Yuuri responded, half teasing, half serious.

On Yuuri's tiny screen, Phichit gasped dramatically. _"Oh jeez, you're siding with him now that you're no longer training with us?"_

Yuuri laughed, shaking his head. "No, actually I just want my best friend to do well at the world championships, how cruel of me."

Phichit huffed, but his lips quirked into a smirk.

_"Fine, fine... Fair enough. I mean, that's what Ciao Ciao keeps saying, too."_ Phichit paused, pulling a face and using a weird accent in an attempt to imitate his coach. _"No slacking off, with Victor Nikiforov back in the game, you're gonna have to give it your all if you want to kick Nikiforov's ass."_ Another beat of silence, and then Phichit went back to his regular tone, defensively holding up his hands. _"By the way, no offense to you about the ass kicking thing, Yuuri. Just a figure of speech."_

It took Yuuri a moment to understand why Phichit was apologizing, but then it clicked. To Phichit, speaking ill of Victor, weird as it was, would technically mean speaking ill of Yuuri's boyfriend. _Boyfriend_. The word still sounded odd to Yuuri, even when he didn't say it out loud.

"N-none taken," Yuuri sputtered before things could get any more awkward.

Phichit shrugged it off then, changing the subject, bless him.

_"So what about you, Yuuri? You had me worried for a while there! Everything okay?"_

"I'm much better," Yuuri quickly assured him, flashing his friend a smile, a real one. "But actually, I _was_ hoping that maybe we could ehm... talk about something?"

_"Oh sure! You know me, always here to listen to your most embarrassing problems."_ Phichit sounded relieved when he answered; Yuuri knew him well enough to know.

"Wow, thanks Phichit, that's very encouraging."

_"Anytime, my friend, anytime. So, shoot!"_

After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Yuuri decided to just get it over with.

"Look, I know that this is weird, but I was just wondering... Victor and I, did we... God, this sounds so silly, but do you feel like we made _sense_? As-as a couple, I mean?"

Phichit snorted just as he took a sip of his drink, spraying orange juice everywhere.

"What?" Yuuri demanded, raising an eyebrow at him.

_"Nothing, nothing,"_ Phichit muttered as he grabbed some tissues to clean up the mess. _"It's just kinda funny that you're asking me, of all people."_

"How so?"

Throwing the tissues in the general direction of the trash can, Phichit sighed.

_"Look, Yuuri... We've had this talk before, sort of."_

Yuuri groaned. Of course they had.

"Well then... Don't spare me, Phichit. Tell me what you told me back then."

_"I ehm..."_ Phichit fell silent, but soon enough gathered his wits. _"I was skeptical, in the beginning._ _When you texted me that Victor came to Hasetsu and all that jazz, you know? I wasn't gonna bother you about it, besides you were busy with your idol freaking showing up on your doorstep, but I was curious as to what was going on, so I stalked social media for a bit to dig up some dirt. It kinda was a rash decision on Victor's part after all, even though you absolutely nailed his program in that viral video -don't get me wrong-, but then... The first article I came across was this interview with Victor's coach, Feltsman. The press asked him whether or not the rumors were true, if Victor had really left Russia to coach Katsuki Yuuri from Japan, and Feltsman told them, and I quote 'Victor Nikiforov only cares about himself, he could never be somebody's coach!'"_

"Oh..." Yuuri whispered, taken aback.

_"Yeah,"_ Phichit muttered. _"And hey, I knew that you could take care of yourself, but I did still worry about Victor's intentions, a bit. I mean, Yakov Feltsman has coached Victor for over a decade, if anyone knew what made His Royal Highness tick, it had to be Feltsman, right?"_

"I guess so, yeah..." Yuuri chewed his lip, feeling a little uneasy at that revelation. "So what you're saying is that I need to be... careful?"

Phichit laughed, out loud.

_"Nah, that's not what I'm saying at all. You might find this hard to believe, but occasionally, I'm wrong about stuff."_ Phichit's tone was light, almost as if casually bringing up an inside joke. _"That was almost a year ago. That was before I actually saw the two of you together, in real life, at the Cup of China where you and I were both competing."_

"What do you mean?" Yuuri urged his friend to go on, more confused than anything else.

Phichit smiled fondly, shaking his head _. "I could see it in his eyes. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, how protective he was. If Victor Nikiforov still had any kind of hidden agenda at all at that point, it was his obvious desire to marry and grow old with you, maybe adopt some more dogs."_

Yuuri stared at the screen of his phone, speechless. Phichit's expression was as serious as it could get.

_"He loves you, Yuuri. He-"_

Their call was abruptly interrupted when the balcony door slid open to reveal a rather flustered looking Victor. Wearing a dark suit and a crisp white shirt. And a blue tie that perfectly matched his eyes. His hair was disheveled, his cheeks pink, as if he'd been in a hurry, but damn, _that suit._ Yuuri swooned on the spot.

"Sorry to interrupt!" Victor chirped, sounding a tad out of breath. "Please just tell me, do I look like I can be taken seriously?"

Yuuri blinked, tongue-tied as he took in Victor's appearance, because what kind of a question was that?

_"You're so extra, you never look like you can be taken seriously, don't bother,"_ Phichit teasingly called back from the phone that Yuuri was still holding up.

Before Yuuri could snap out of it and even begin to hiss a warning at his friend, Victor beat him to the punch.

"Phichit! That's rude!" he whined while sending Phichit a playful pout as he kept trying to fix his tie. "I'm so taking back those skating tips that I sent you last week."

Yuuri tried very hard to not look too shocked at the casual exchange between his best friend and his supposed future husband.

Phichit held up both of his hands in defeat. _"Okay I'm shutting up now. And I'll let you guys go because I know an emergency when I see one."_

Yuuri quickly thanked Phichit and promised to call again soon, then put down his phone to questioningly tilt his head at Victor, still feeling positively baffled.

"Yakov just called! He set up a meeting for me so that I could talk to some sponsors in the area, you know, make the most of it while I'm here," Victor elaborated, then lowered his head in shame. "It was one of Yakov's conditions if I wanted to go here, but I _forgot,_ and one of them texted Yakov because I wasn't there yet. I was supposed to meet them at the hotel's restaurant for brunch, but I'm already fifteen minutes late. They came all the way here to meet me, he will murder me! He even called me by my full name, Yuuri! My full name! No _'Vitya'_. He's going to kill me when he sees me again!"

That wasn't the kind of emergency that Yuuri had counted on, and he sighed in relief.

"Alright, deep breaths, nobody's going to get murdered. Yakov probably talked to them to buy you more time, right?" Yuuri guessed, putting his hands on Victor's shoulders to ground him.

Victor nodded quickly, but was about to open his mouth again.

"Second guessing everything will only make you later, you know," Yuuri reminded him gently. "You look fine, just go, you're not that late, tell them the elevator got stuck or something. And use your charm, it works on everyone anyway."

Blushing deeply at what he'd blurted out, Yuuri hastily pushed Victor back inside the room and towards the door that led to the hallway, hoping to distract him from that statement. Regardless, Victor stubbornly came to a halt in the doorway, turning around to weakly flash Yuuri a smile.

He looked like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. The look in his eyes said it all though, and Yuuri was instantly reminded of what Phichit had told him. _'I could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you'._

And now that Yuuri was looking, _truly_ looking, he could see it, too. Crazy as it was, this man loved him. Loved him unconditionally. And after last night there wasn't a single doubt in Yuuri's mind that the feeling was mutual, even if he didn't quite remember just yet. Or even if he'd never remember; he was confident that it wouldn't take long before he'd fall in love with Victor all over again.

It shouldn't come as a surprise, because hadn't Yuuri always loved him in some way ever since he'd understood what it even meant to love someone? Even when it was from afar?

He grabbed Victor's hand and squeezed it without thinking.

"When your meeting is done, can we talk?" Yuuri asked quietly. "I ehm... I know stuff about us. I- I Googled. And then I talked to Phichit, as you know."

"Oh... I see," Victor said, eyes widening a little, but he didn't look too shocked, probably having it figured out after last night.

"Yeah... And I know about the ehm, the engagement rings," Yuuri confessed, letting go of Victor's hand now in case it got too overwhelming for either of them. "Victor, I... _I want them back_."

Yuuri was a mere witness when Victor Nikiforov's face fell at once, his usually bright eyes turning dull and sad without warning. Yuuri was beyond terrified when Victor's tears were the next thing that fell.

**Author's Note:**

> **destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com**


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